#and filled with so many typos :V

[keen-li]

MA'AM

18+

MDNI

Neighbour au. age gap au (reader is older than jk). kissing, touching, oral (female receiving), fingering, jk calls reader ''ma'am''. reader is kinda lonely, bored and untouched. p in v, no protection (be wise and condomize guys).

this is all just fiction, don't take it too seriously.

plus im stil learing to write smut, so go easy on me.

helpful and positve feedback is appreciated.

Sorry for any typos.

--

‘’oh yn,’’ you hear a familiar boy-ish voice speak.

And when you turn, your eyes are met with jungkook.

You know him cause he’s your neighbour, but you rarely speak seeing that you have nothing in common but he’s always kind and sweet whenever you bump into each other.

Like right now.

‘’jungkook’’ you say surprised to see him. ‘’how are you?’’ you give him back a smile.

You haven’t seen him in a while, he must be busy with college (you assume) or maybe he’s busy with some girlfriend. Guys his age are usually swarmed with girls. Especially seeing how attractive he is. The college girls must be having fun with him.

You admire his hair that seems to have gotten longer. You can’t help but notice how good he looks with it.

‘’i’m good, hope you’re doing well..’’ he pauses in his speech ‘’haven’t heard from you in a while. I almost thought you moved out’’

You chuckle at his assumption.

You shake your head lightly as you chuckle ‘’nope. Just busy with work’’

‘’i dont think i’d ever move out honestly’’ seeing as this apartment has a fair price for rent.

He chuckles.

‘’im glad thought i scared you away’’ he says worriedly.

‘’you’d never scare me away’’ you mumble out suddenly feeling nervous.

‘’with all those noise complaints you handed to me?’’ He says with a warm joking tone.

You can’t deny that a lot of noise comes from jungkook’s apartment, that you had to report him. You kinda feel childish for doing it, he’s a college boy anyways. All they know is noise.

‘’but i do get it. I make a lot of noise’’ he uses his pointer and middle finger to rub his lower lip, you get the chance to admire his tattooed finger and pierced lip.

You feel yourself swallow the lump in your throat and bite your lip. You don’t know why you always feel like this when talking to jungkook, maybe it’s his hovering figure, intimidating voice or piercing brown eyes. Even though his eyes give off a soft innocent look you can’t help but observe the sensuality in them.

‘’um yeah’’ you don’t know what else to say. Your eyes can barely look at jungkook while his eyes can’t stop looking at you. There’s no way a college boy can make you feel this nervous. You thought you had outgrown it.

Or maybe it’s the aloneness since your last boyfriend. It’s been quite depressive but you try and not let it eat you up.

But it’s hard when you and jungkook’s walls are as thin as paper. and can hear everything that goes on. Especially when he has a girl over.

You don’t mean to listen to what happens, but what else can you do when you’re laying in bed, bored and lonely. It seems sad you end up finding your hand in-between your thighs as you hear how jungkook pleasures.

With all the groans and name moaning you have come to the conclusion that jungkook must be a great fuck. But it’s not like you’ll ever know. Do you even want to?

You can never fuck someone younger than you right? You’ve always dated older men or at least someone the same age as you. You’ve never been with a younger guy before.

But jungkook seems like he could definitely go for an older woman.

Wait.

Does jungkook want you. He does seem to give off that vibe but maybe you’re in over your head. Jungkook wouldn’t want you there are so many better options for him. So many better girls for him. Not you.

‘’so do you like those?’’ he askes pointing to the basket you have filled with ramen noodles cups.

You chuckle embarrassed.

‘’ yeah i do but, i mainly buy them cause i don’t have time to cook’’

He nods.

‘’maybe i can come cook for you one day’’ you laugh but he’s actually serious.

‘’oh, i wouldn’t mind but i assume you’re busy with school’’ you swing the basket lightly and unconsciously.

‘’i can find time’’ he says a little rushed out.

‘’then i wouldn’t mind’’ you smile.

‘’you going home?’’ he asks.

You nod.

‘’i guess i can give you a ride home, if that’s alright with you’’

You wouldn’t mind at all.

-

The ride back home was quiet. It still baffles you to how jungkook has a car.

When you were in college you could barely find money to buy food, let alone a car.

And even with a job you can barely find money to buy or rent a car.

‘’thanks for the ride, it was nice meeting you today jungkook’’

The way you smile and say his name makes a hot flash rush through him.

If only you knew how many times his thought of you calling out his name. Sometimes he wishes it was you in his bed, toes curling and back arching.

If he got the chance, he’d show you how you deserve everything.

You don’t deserve to get yourself off and barely get off.

Did he ever say that the walls are so thin that he can hear you too.

He’s heard your frustrated moans and grunts. And all the times you cursed cause of how hard it was to get your high, sometimes his heard you cry and it breaks his heart.

He wishes he could get a chance to please you. He’s never wanted to please someone so bad.

He’s never been so desperate to get on his knees and run you dry of all your juices. To feel you claw at his back as you take him so well.

But he’s also never thought of being with an older woman.

Jungkook knows you’re older than him and he doesn’t mind. Actually he makes him want you more.

He wants you like air and if he doesn’t get you now he feels like he would stop breathing.

So if he doesn’t take this opportunity now he might never have the chance to.

‘’do you wanna, come eat ramen with me?’’

-

You don’t know how it happened. But he asked you to come over to his, you didn’t see a problem with it so you said yes.

But you don’t know how you went from laughing over some movie to grinding on his lap as your lips intertwine hungrily.

Fuck. You never thought you’d be doing this with your neighbour and fuck you never thought it would feel this good.

Your hands roam his firm chest, and your thoughts are proved right, he does like the gym. Though you could’ve known that without clawing at his chest.

These younger guys are always in the gym, like their life depends on it.

Your gasps and moans mix. You don’t know how innocent sounds of laughter turned into hot whimpers of need.

Maybe it was the stares that seemed to linger for longer than they should have.

Jungkook takes a moment to take in your face but then his lips are soon on yours again as eager as ever, and you accept them.

He kisses you with eagerness and desperation. Desperation to touch and feel you in every way.

You moan into his mouth as you feel the wetness grow between your legs. You hate how a college student, has you this hot and soaking wet.

You’re busy devouring each other’s lips but you don’t fail to recognize the tent forming and touching your centre.

Jungkook’s hands rummage over your back and over your hips and to your ass, he sqeezes your ass lightly which causes you to jumb lightly.

‘’you okay’’ he asks

‘’yeah just never had anyone squeeze my ass like that’’

That boy-ish smile of his is far gone, now a manly sexy grin paints his face. A grin like a wolf looking at a lamb as it’s next meal.

‘’you’ve never had someone touch you like that’’

You shake your head. You hate how jungkook makes you feel like a highschooler losing their virginity.

‘’who have you been fucking that doesn’t want to touch this ass’’ he squeezes your ass again, and you’re embarrassed when you release a moan at that action.

‘’i don’t know’’ your words come out more whiny than you’d like.

He moves to your neck and you move it to accustom him into the space. He places some wet and gentle kisses.

‘’i’m not like them though. I wanna touch every part of you. Wanna taste every part of you and feel you on me.’’ He kisses your neck again and the smacking sound of his lips meeting your skin causes you clench. ‘’i wanna treat you right, i wanna make you feel good’’

You don’t know how true his words are or if you can even take them seriously. Maybe it’s the lust talking. He’s a young man, he wouldn’t want to waste his days with you.

‘’don’t you have other, younger girls. You wanna make feel good.’’ You just had to ask.

The chuckles he releases causes a rush of blood to your groin.

‘’all i think about when i fuck them is you’’ he kisses you again.

You don’t want to believe him but your heart can’t help but flutter. You don’t want to get hurt again but something tells you jungkook is far from hurting you. But you can’t trust that feeling, what if that feeling is just how good it feels to be on him.

He has a great way with words and it would work on you every time, cause you haven’t grown out the naivety of your youth for some reason.

Jungkook knows when and how to say the right words which makes you scared. Which makes him dangerous. All these young boys are to slick with their words.

‘’yn, don’t think’’ he whispers against your lips. He must have noticed your distance all of a sudden.

‘’don’t think of anything but this’’ he pecks your lips.

‘’i’ll try’’ you coo.

‘’i’ll make you’’

his lips are back on yours desperately. And the sound of your lips smacking and you whimpers fills the room again.

His lips go back to licking and sucking that one spot on your neck. His mouth on your neck and hands on your hips helping you grind against his clothed crotch makes you gasp for air.

You’ve never had anyone take their time with you like this, they’re usually quick to just get it in. But not jungkook, he takes his time enjoying and tasting every part of you. Why wouldn’t he when he’s been thinking about this moment and taking cold showers to stop his natural desire for you.

Being with jungkook tells you how much you’ve been missing and how much you need to learn. It’s like going back to your college days.

‘’fuck jungkook’’ you moan when he nibbles at your neck. Your hands move from his chest to his neck then to his long hair.

You unintentionally pull at his hair and you love how he groans when you do so.

The need and ache between your legs grows strong as you grind harder on his lap. Jungkook watches how you move against him trying to find your high. He promises to give it to you but he needs to feel more of you before he does so.

You gasp when he plops you on your back onto his soft couch.

‘’jungkook...’’ you call out and he stops his action to attend to your need.

‘’yes’’ he sounds so submissive as he says so.

‘’i want you’’ your hips move up to feel some friction. He chuckles at the action.

‘’i want you too’’ he smiles as he pecks you on your forehead.

‘’no. Like i want you. Actually i fucking need you’’ you whine out. You’re probably gonna be so embarrassed later but right now you need him.

Your hand reaches for his belt but his hands stop you. You feel embarrassed and confused, you know he’s hard. You can see his fully grown bulge. But why does he want to take so much time.

‘’i wanna taste you first’’ he whispers by your ear.

Fuck. You’ve never had anyone want to eat you out. It’s been a while since anyone went down on you.

‘’jungkoo-‘’ you want to protest.

‘’please yn’’ he begs. ‘’i need it’’ his lips are against yours as he says in a whisper. His lips are on yours for a second before he leaves you wanting to taste his lips more.

You watch his body move down and you can feel your wetness drip down.

‘’fuck...’’ you hear him groan and grow a little self conscious.

‘’what?’’ you lift yourself up a bit.

‘’it’s just that you’re so fucking gorgeous’’ you can’t help but blush and feel a little weird. You’ve never had anyone ogle at you pussy like that.

‘’jungkook..’’ you call out in a whine. You can feel his breath breeze over you centre and it makes the need grow stronger.

‘’i’m sorry, im staring’’ he says and before you can tell him anything his lips are on you, hungrily.

You release a sharp moan as his lips make out with yours.

He licks a long strip of you pouring juices, your taste sinking into his tastebuds.

‘’so fucking good,’’ he groans. ‘’and so fucking wet’’ you feel his finger run through your folds.

‘’jungkook please. Fuck...’’ you don’t even know what you’re pleading for but you are.

Jungkook adheres to you unspoken cries, as he dives back into kissing you and massaging your clit.

Your hand finds it’s way to his hair and pulls. The groan he releases sends electricity through you.

You’ve never felt like this, nobody has ever put this much effort into touching you.

And jungkook has never put this much effort into eating pussy, but for you he will and he is.

He adds his fingers into you as he pumps into you.

‘’fuck you need to be fucked right’’ he says at your tightness. You can barely hear what he’s saying over at how hard he’s slurping.

With the way his digits work into you and his tongue sucks on your clit, you can feel that feeling you’ve been chasing.

‘’fuck jungkook, im going to-‘’ jungkook smiles at how you can barely finish your sentence but he knows.

The feeling grows closer and your heart races in excitement.

But then all of the sudden the feeling is gone and you’re about to curse out jungkook who’s now moving up.

‘’what the fuck, i was going to-‘’ you whine angrily.

‘’i want you to come over my cock’’

You don’t argue, he’s the one in control after all.

‘’ then please fuck me’’ all you can do is plead. It’s so embarrassing pleading for him to fuck you. You wonder if girls his age are this desperate too.

‘’yes ma’am’’ he says as he takes off his shirt, for some reason him calling you ma’am makes you more aroused.

‘’don’t call me ma’am’’ you say blushing but jungkook knows, you’re bullshitting.

‘’yes ma’am’’ he says with a cheeky grin knowing that it makes you clench around nothing.

You watch him unbuckle his belt and you’ve never seen anything this attractive.

As you watch him you anticipate how his going to feel and how you’ll wrap around him. That’s all jungkook can think about too as he strokes himself slightly, though he’s been hard since he saw you in the grocery store.

You feel his tip slide through your wet folds and you can’t help but suck in a breath. Jungkook can’t help but whimper at how wet and good you feel already.

You clench desperate to feel something inside you. You wonder if it will hurt, it’s been a while for you anyways. And he looks like he could stretch you out good. But you’re too needy to worry about that.

You gasp when you feel him move into you, slow and teasingly. His tip has you wondering if you’ll be able to take all of him.

‘’fuck you’re so good for me’’ he says as he moves in deeper. ‘’i wish i could feel you everyday’’

You can.

You want to say, but don’t wanna make promises. You don’t know if this will ever happen again.

‘’do you wanna be good for me like this everyday, yn’’ he says kissing along your jaw as he settles into you.

He doesn’t move waiting for your answer.

You hum but it’s not enough for him.

‘’yes, i want you everyday’’ you end up speaking more of your mind than you planned to.

Jungkook smiles as he slowly begins to move in and out.

‘’good. You can have me everyday’’

With the ways he rocks into you, slowly increasing speed, you understand the moans of those girls you heard him fucking.

His name falls from your mouth as he continues. Jungkook has never enjoyed being buried in heat like this. And he’s never wanted to stay in forever like he does right now.

‘’jungkook..’’ with the way your nails dig into his arm and you flutter around he knows you’re close.

But so is he. Your high is his target as he continues to stroke.

Jungkook twitches inside of you as you both reach your highs.

He lays on top of you as you breath heavily. He tries to keep his weight from crushing you.

‘’next time i wanna be on top’’ you say with the energy you’ve got left.

‘’deal. Even though i like being on top, i’ll let you ride me’’ you almost feel that feeling comeback.

You stroke his hair as you watch that boy-ish smile return on his face.

It’s like he’s changed and wasn’t the person balls deep into you seconds ago.

‘’i like this’’ you say comfortable.

‘’i like you’’ Jungkook coos into your neck.

--

[qwimchii]

𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 (pt. 6) — 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

playlist pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 (10/24)

𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘧!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘸, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘤 — 13.1k

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵!𝘢𝘶, 141𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨!𝘢𝘶, 𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 (10𝘺𝘳𝘴), 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 & 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, p. in v, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬 (𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢?), 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 😵‍💫, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯

note: i really hope this isn’t too angsty and confusing? also i noticed the atrocious amount of typos i had in the last part and holy moly... hopefully this one had less because i very lightly proofread it 😭 but if it does i am sorry (im really lazy about proofreading help 😵‍💫)….

two months later

you had not talked to Simon for two weeks. you had not even seen him for days.

the last time you did, it was late at night in the office.

most nights, just like days ago, you were up late working, rain pelting against the window where you typed at your desk, just the irregular patter of rain filling the empty office and the quick clatter of the character keys beneath your fingers. there was a sharp ache in your shoulders and you sighed, rolling them back and wincing at the cracks along your spine. 

rolling your head back, you looked at the desk beside your own—painfully empty in the dim lighting.

as promised, one-four-one had filled the gaping power chasm within the western frontier, shifting headquarters to the capital of the west and buying several properties on every key corner of the sprawling city—much like the brand new townhouse you called an office. 

not many rival gangs had stood up to the power shift because they couldn’t. widespread federal crackdowns had swept through the city. the anonymity of one-four-one had still been preserved—though over time, you had grown to doubt that—and one-four-one had won the war.

it didn’t feel like it though. it felt like you were in hiding all over again, but not from Turner’s men. it was the law this time.

now, at least, one-four-one disclosed all business endeavors to you.

you poured over their financial bookings. Simon had grumbled about it, saying something like it was dangerous for you to be so involved, but it didn’t matter much anyway. you were their main operation of business now, and all ordeals went through you… and your father’s saloon chain.

Kate implored, with the heat of the law breathing down one-four-one’s back, that they needed a legal guise for their illegal ventures. and you offered the saloon chain as an outlet so long that  you would remain the major shareholder.

one-four-one had agreed and Simon, albeit grudgingly, with a grumpy disposition, had agreed.

but establishing a saloon in every town, city, and borough of one-four-one’s proved to be difficult, making Simon busy and you even busier.

eyes darting back down to the empty desk, you missed the vacant absence by your side nonetheless. rubbing at your face, you decided to call it quits, reaching over to turn off the lamp at your desk. the room plunged into darkness, and only the murky light of the moon seeped through the window.

a chill swept through the place and you couldn’t help but shiver, swiping away all papers and materials into the filing cabinet beside your desk when there was a knock at the back door of the office.

“who is it?” you called, sliding the drawers shut and wiping your palms against your dress.

when there was no response, you paused, craning your neck to peer at the door. through the opaque glass, you could make out a tall, shadowed figure at the door.

sighing, you snatched a revolver from your purse, cocking it just in case, and strode over to the door to twist it open.

“business hours are closed—” you began, looking up to the tall figure in the entrance, breath hitching when you saw a familiar scarred face.

Simon looked tired—more tired than you remembered him after two weeks. maybe older too, you worried, watching the downpour roar of rain slip off his trench coat. he just watched you with quiet eyes and a blank expression, swaying slightly in the doorway, which only worried you more.

“Simon—” you said, voice pinched as you reached out to him, then muffled a yelp when he suddenly lurched forward and pressed his wet body to yours.

your hand was still outstretched when he curled into you, big body bent down to wrap around your waist and pull you flush to him.

“missed you,” his whispered, pressing his nose into your neck, then kissing there. the water seeping through your dress made you shiver and he rubbed at your sides, like he was trying to warm you.

an overwhelming crash of confusion wracked you. Simon wasn’t due to be back for a while. at least a few more weeks. nonetheless, you twisted your hands into his clothes, amazed to find him solid and real in front of you.  

“Simon. why are you here—?”

he pulled back from your neck and suddenly pressed his lips to yours, the kiss cold and wet from the rain, his stetson tipping off his head when he angled his head to kiss you deeper, messier, his teeth knocking into yours as his tongue dipped through your lips.

you muffled a squeak, trying to match the fast movements with your own, curling your arms around his neck and letting the revolver clatter to the floor. when his tongue brushed against yours, there was a rich and bitter taste in your mouth, and you gasped. alcohol.

you pressed against his chest and he pulled back with a disgruntled noise, frowning, before trying to kiss you again. but you pushed him away by his jaw and his frown only deepened.

“why?” he asked softly, brows furrowed. 

you rubbed his chest, quelling the hurt look on his face to melt away.

“you’re drunk, Si,” you whispered back before gently tugging him towards the vacant chair in the office.

when he sat in it, the chair groaning under his weight, he tried to pull you onto his lap, fingers curling around the back of your thighs and tugging you forward. when you didn’t budge, he huffed, and jerked you forward with enough force that you fell into his lap with a yelp.

“Simon—!”

he curled you up into his lap, snaking an arm around your waist and the other up your chest, hand gripping at your shoulder to keep you locked against him. with a sigh, you let it happen, smoothing your dress free of its wrinkles Simon had just created. his eyes lazily followed the movement, nose pressed into your cheek and hot breath against your skin.

“pretty dress,” he remarked, squeezing you tightly. you just rolled your eyes.

you were about to give him a sarcastic quip when, voice deceptively soft, he asked, “why are you avoiding me?”

the breath left your lungs, and you went very still.

when you didn’t give a verbal response, Simon shifted beneath you, just winding around you tighter.

“supposed to be my wife,” he said, forehead sinking into your neck. his voice was so somber that you had to stifle a laugh of disbelief.

“you haven’t even proposed,” you reminded him. he just grumbled something you couldn’t hear, words smothered against your skin.

you didn’t know why you were avoiding him. 

Soap had told you—very briefly during one-four-one’s inhabitation of san francisco—that it gets worse before it gets better. he had said it so briefly that you hadn’t know what he meant, didn’t really think it meant anything, until your life resumed in a new bustling city that felt impossible to get accustomed to.

now you know exactly what he meant. swallowing hard, you willed the thoughts away, burying them under a thick layer of bitter denial that Simon sniffed out like a hound.

“marry me then,” he offered, and you pinched the skin of his wrist.

“no. you’re not proposing to me while you’re drunk.”

he huffed out. “why not?”

you ignored him. “why were you drinking?”

when he was silent for a long moment, you smothered a smile of victory, feeling like you had won for some stupid reason.

then, he grumbled out quietly, “you were ignorin’ me.”

the smile slid from your face.

after a pause, you hiked up your dress, uncaring for indecency when you twisted in his hold, hooking your thighs around his in the chair. he gripped your hips tightly, looking up at you with hooded eyes. the small, unpleasant twist of his lips soured any warm feeling in your chest.

“m’not ignoring you,” you said softly, reaching up to brush the tangle of his blonde hair from his brow. his hair was getting too long now—the close shave on the sides of his head shaggy and unkempt.

he looks pretty anyway, you decided dreamily, kissing his forehead gently. his hands slid up to your waist, gripping you tighter.

“feels like it,” he grumbled and you suppressed a smile.

“sorry,” you said, the ache in your chest only swelling when you noticed the crestfallen look in his dark eyes.

“i’ve been busy,” you admitted, rubbing a comforting hand over his chest.

he just pulled you closer, forehead knocking against your shoulder. his hands crept up to your upper back now, clutching at your dress.

“so have you,” you pointed out.

he mulled in silence, hands sliding back down your torso, a shiver wracking you in his hold. then, he dropped his hands to your legs, fingers brushing over your legs as he edged up your dress, hands sliding beneath the fabric to play with the hem of your drawers. the leather of his gloves was cool against your skin.

“Simon,” you chided, blushing when his fingertips slithered beneath the fabric.

“missed you,” he reiterated, grip firm on your upper thighs as he pulled you tight against his hips. the blush bloomed across your ears and neck when you felt his hard arousal beneath his pants.

“not in my office,” you hissed, and he grumbled.

“you were gonna shoot me,” he complained, picking his head up to glare at the revolver that lay forgotten across the carpet floor, just by Simon’s fallen stetson.

you rolled your eyes. “i was not gonna shoot you.”

“you should make it up to me,” he interjected, voice a seductive, low rumble.

with another roll of your eyes, you swatted at him, pulling off his lap despite the string of expletive protests that left his lips.

you knew him too well to be fooled by his manipulative seductive tendencies. instead, you gathered your items and your purse, ignoring his big, sukling body beside yours. when he tugged at your dress, and you ignored him again, he made a sad noise.

upon observing the dark cloud of disapproval that roiled off his body, and the deep scowl on his face, you promised, “later Si.”

at that, he perked up, looking hopeful as he followed you to the back door of the office. you picked up your revolver on the floor and shoved it in your purse. opening the door to the pouring rain outside, you sighed, wishing you had an umbrella as you craned your neck out into the night.

instead, Simon picked up his stetson from the floor and pushed it onto your head. it was too big on you and tipped forward, concealing your vision of the city streets. at that, he huffed a laugh and drew you closer, hitching up his coat so that you were tucked beneath his arm and the flap of his trench coat.

“lead the way, lovely,” he said, voice tinged with an amused lilt as you frowned, tilting his hat back so that you could see as he led you down the little steps from the office and out onto the street—bound for his horse by the cobbled sidewalk, the black stallion stomping in the rain. bound for home.

looking over at Simon whose eyes were trained ahead, you took in his content, handsome profile with a greediness, only realizing just then how much you had missed him. down to the very bones of your body, you had missed him. 

just then, you couldn’t help but feel that you were already at home in his arms.

but that was days ago.

Soap had ridden into the city with a panic that same night, roving around to find that blonde brute of yours, he had explained in the comforts of your new, big apartment. the third place he had looked was your home, and you had tried to hide the flush of your skin behind the cup of tea you sipped.

he had explained that Simon had gone home prematurely without a notice, too drunk to reason through with things. too drunk to be able to quell how much he missed you.

with a sinking feeling, you had come to acknowledge with a tinge of guilt just how much you had been neglecting him. not that it was your responsibility to take care of him in the first place. you weren’t married.

though, after everything, that didn’t seem to matter at all. you were completely his anyway.

with a wince, you couldn’t help but wonder, was he yours as well? could you even dare to wonder if your relationship was an equal give and take? if it was anything more than a silent power imbalance?

eyes darting from Soap to your open bedroom door, you eyed the large lump beneath the blankets of your bed. you hadn’t even done anything upon arrival at your home. you had pushed him toward the bedroom and he had sunk down into the mattress, exhausted from his long ride to san francisco, and promptly fell asleep, thoroughly soaking your sheets.

you had let him sleep, content to lay flush by his side and tangled in his wet embrace, till there was a pounding on your door. you had opened it to find Soap dripping with water and looking just as tired as the hulking man who slept in your bed.

and there you were on the living room sofas with Soap, sipping tea as he explained that they needed to go back and finish taking care of things in arizona and mexico. then they would be home bound again. it was a promise.

once the sun crested the sky along the horizon, you gently shook Simon awake, looking confused and sleepy in the morning light.

he had gone without much reluctance—much more sober than the night before. a composed stoicism overtook him again and he was curt in his goodbye. so curt it made your heart ache.

he could barely look at you, brushing his gloved fingers gently against your cheek in a brief reminder of his deep, lingering affection, before he disappeared with Soap out your apartment. the only remnant of him was your drenched sheets and the soft smell of smoky ash and woods against them.

this was how it had been for months. it gets worse before it gets better, Soap had said to you when things had grown tense between you and Simon. you were managing a business. he was managing the entire western frontier through the business you managed.

was marriage an option anymore?

your mind chanted a quiet reminder that it wouldn’t be long before one-four-one would be in san francisco permanently. Simon’s stoic presence would be more resolute and then maybe, maybe, you could do something about it.

there were nights when you caved when he was home, staying just across the hall from your apartment, knocking at his door and desperate for his touch on your skin. he would always relent, picking you up and throwing you onto his bed, crawling over you and setting your whole body alight with sensual touches and long, breathless kisses as he fucked you through several earth shattering orgasms that had your nails scratching down his back, hands twisting his hair, sometimes biting down on his shoulder to try and quell the overwhelming pleasure of it.

you’d roll in the sheets for hours, tangled together until the sun came up after a long, pleasurable and sweaty night. there were always bruises left along your skin, a darkened splotchy purple against your hips where his had slammed into you over and over, making you see stars.

there were nights when he’d do the same. you remembered opening the door to him—half-naked and his bare, muscled torso on display, a scarred, discolored twist of skin over the side of his chest and shoulder that matched the skin of your own arm. there was always a tinge of plea in his voice, of desperation, as he edged you into your own apartment and you always, always relented.

you remembered being down on your knees for him for the first time, throat swollen and tight as he eased his cock down your throat, a gentle hand in your hair.

“thas’ it,” he had praised, voice slurred as he guided you through the unusual motion. your head slid up and down his thick, hot length that pulsed in your mouth, sucking him with closed eyes.

“look at me,” he had commanded, thumb pressing against your cheek and you had fluttered your eyes up at him, head feeling light and airy from the lack of oxygen circulating in your system.

“fuck,” he choked out, head tipping back at the sight of you, so small and obedient between his thighs.

it was just like this every time—mind blowing and unforgettable. content in his strong arms after every night of intense passion, your cheek pressed to his warm chest and soft, lulling whispers into your ear as he stroked your hair till you fell asleep to his random bursts of rambles about work, one-four-one, and you. soft, loving words about you.

he was always the most talkative those nights. in the morning, he would always be gone, and in the light of day, you’d half ignore each other for fear of…

you didn’t know what you should be fearing but you feared something so strong that you buried yourself in work and allowed yourself to be selfish. trying desperately to forget everything and always failing much to Yue-Yi’s amusement.

damn special privileges, you had hired Yue-Yi as a personal assistant after the majority of brothels had been shut down with the crackdown of law across the west. managing so many of her own personal clients throughout her life, Yue-Yi proved to be adept at organizing your busy schedule and especially adept at keeping you company when one-four-one was gone. when Simon was gone.

she reminded you to take care of yourself when you were overworking. you always countered by saying that one-four-one was working twice as hard, though with the incredulous look she would send you every time, you grew to become unsure of yourself.

and here you were in the present, days since you had “talked” to Simon though his mind seemed to be barely present underneath a veil of intoxication. days since Soap had whisked him back to whatever duties that lay east of san francisco.

you tried to ignore it all, taking long strolls through the park during lunch to avoid the hustle bustle of your office during the busy hours. you preferred to work in silence, but that proved difficult with the growing number of employers that were corralled into your business, no matter how perturbed they thought an unmarried woman as their boss.

you heard their gossips and whispers. they thought you were hiding a secret marriage with the prophesied ceo from them. Simon Riley. little did they know, their ceo was actually you. you didn’t have the heart to tell them that they were wrong and allowed them to continue thinking you were some favored personal assistant of Simon—just a typist and nothing more.

you only let a few men—vaqueros who knew good english with proficient math and business skills—into your secret, pressing real business matters to carry out into their hands. they never questioned it, and whether it was a command from Alejandro or not, you thought of them as amiable acquaintances.

the fall leaves littered the path in the park on this day, your hands clasped behind your back as you observed the sun flecked surroundings. a husband and wife ambled through the grass as their children trailed behind, throwing up colorful leaves into the air with pitched laughter. immediately, you looked away from the sight.

that’s when you spotted a familiar man staring at you, splayed across a nearby bench in a fancy three-piece suit and ginger hair fiery in the sunlight.

you stopped in your tracks.

“Konig?” you choked, slowly edging toward him. he tipped his head to you with a smile that smothered something strange in his pale green eyes.

“pleasant to see you little lady.”

your mouth opened and closed and you would’ve sat by him if it weren’t for the thrumming, ominous instinct in you to stay away.

and you did just that, stopping a comfortable distance from the big man, his eyes never leaving you as he took a swing from a flask before tucking it back into the breast pocket of his suit.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, dismayed, wondering if you were hallucinating it out of your own loneliness.

he ruffled his hair, smile lopsided but eyes still flat and dead and cold. Konig had disappeared on the move into san francisco. he would reappear every one and a while, poking around in your business and checking on your well-being before disappearing all over again. it was frustrating and left you beyond confusion.

it left Simon seething because Konig would conveniently pop up in the midst of a random, bustling street, tell you with joy that he was staying just around the corner of your new apartment and make Simon sulk at the very sight of the austrian man.

“my employers in Austria,” he said with a tilted head, “they want me to stay in san francisco for business.”

your mind spun. business? assassin business?

your throat ran dry. “you won’t kill Simon, will you?” 

the smile on his face was malicious.

“i already tried,” he said slowly, and you suppressed a shiver, remembering when Kate had told you that Konig had left Simon for dead in that fire but took you with him. saved your life.

“that british boy,” Konig said, brow furrowed like he was concentrating hard, “i do not like him, Engel.”

you sighed out, rubbing at your temple. “i know, Konig.”

when Konig only kept staring at you in silence, you decided to probe him with questions. “where have you been?”

you were surprised by the hurt in your voice. his brows only rose slightly. “san francisco—”

“what have you been doing?” you interjected, twisting your hands in your dress.

he stared at you for a long moment. “business.”

his voice dropped an octave. “and watching you.” then, he rephrased, “watching you and Ghost.”

you wrinkled your nose. not ominous at all.

“you care about him,” he observed lightly, looking away from you. a frown twitched at his lips and you sighed, gaining the courage to sit on the very opposite edge of the bench. though with his sheer size, he took up more than half of it, his arm splayed out over the back and his fingers pressed against your shoulder when you leaned back to look up at the clear, crisp sky.

“i do,” you confirmed, and he shifted beside you, picking up his hand to play with the ends of your hair.

“why? he’s an insufficient boy,” he grumbled and you couldn’t help the smile on your lips. you had never heard someone describe Simon as a boy, though sometimes, you couldn’t help but feel the same.

“i am an insufficient girl sometimes,” you countered, surprised when Konig shook his head.

“i have always seen you for what you are, Engel.” his pale green eyes flitted from your hair up to your eyes.

“capable.”

at that, you swallowed hard, but he continued on. “i want to stay in america. for you, little american.”

quickly, you countered, “you didn’t know me before, Konig.”

he shook his head again. “i don’t need to.”

there was a dizzying panic that rose in your chest. 

“i’m not innocent,” you practically hissed, pinning him with your most intense gaze that he easily held. “i have mental issues. i don’t know who i am or what i want. i just want…”

your voice faltered. “Simon.”

then, you whispered so quietly that you almost couldn’t hear yourself, “i love him.”

the admittance of it was like a weight that slid off your shoulders, and you gasped a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Konig had gone very stiff beside you, a pure look of something dark and angry twisting his face before it was swept away. he took his arm from you, letting your hair drop against your shoulders, sighing as he looked away.

“i don’t get it,” he grumbled.

you could only agree. “i don’t either.”

after a long moment of silence, Konig stood from the bench and whirled around on his heels, hands in his pockets and an easy smile on his face, though you could see the strain in his eyes.

“no matter. this will be the last time you see me, Engel.”

“i doubt that,” you said bitterly and his smile only grew.

“you are a business woman,” he said carefully, giving you a slight bow, “i am sure we will do business later in life.”

i’m counting on it, you thought, but didn’t voice as he turned on his heel and strode out the park with a confident step. your heart shrunk with every step he took. maybe you cared about him more than you realized.

you winced, trying to imagine how you would tell Simon about this strange encounter. then, you corrected yourself, reminding yourself that you actually didn’t need to tell him anything at all.

“excuse me!” a voice called from afar, and you turned to see Yue-Yi standing at the edge of the park, hands balled up by her side.

at the sight of her, a smile crept up to your face as she impatiently tapped at her wrist. 

“you’re late for a meeting,” she hissed as you strode over. with a nasty look, she whirled around to trudge toward the office with a huff. 

you looked back at Konig one last time, towering as he weaved around people who glanced at him with a wariness.

when he didn’t look back, you hurried to catch up with Yue-Yi, a strangled laugh escaping you when she quickened, throwing a mischievous look over her shoulder as you chased her up the steps to the office.

the meetings went smoothly. as usual. most of Turner’s men had been decimated or scattered, lost to the winds as they left western gang life for a mundane one. few changed sides to work for one-four-one. there wasn’t much threat to your livelihood now, especially now that there was a legal outlet for illegal activities. you implored one-four-one to set up a horse race betting system within each saloon—semi-discrete and something local law enforcers were a part of from time to time…

the rest of the day continued to go smoothly till it was late in the evening, nearing dinnertime, when you passed Yue-Yi typing at her desk. gathering the necessary papers she typed up, one paper by her typewriter caught your eye. 

familiar, obnoxiously loud handwriting in all caps lined the top, addressed to YUE-YI from SIMON RILEY. you immediately picked it up, eyes darting over the paper, just reading the first few, formal sentences when Yue-Yi snatched it from your hand.

“didn’t anyone ever tell you it was rude to read someone else’s letters without permission?” she said with a scowl, wagging a finger at you.

you ignored her, reaching for the letter but she leaned back, crumpling it into a ball in her hand.

“Yue-Yi,” you whined, and she just rolled her eyes with a little smile.

“what is this about?” you probed, endlessly curious as to why Simon had written to Yue-Yi.

and not you, a slither of a whisper spoke in your mind. you grimaced. in all fairness, you never wrote to him either.

mulling by the edge of her desk, Yue-Yi sighed at the sight of you, lost and confused, as she resumed her work and lined up a fresh piece of paper at the typewriter.

“one-four-one is coming back tonight.”

you balked. “tonight?”

she shrugged. “Ghost addressed the information to me several days ago. the letter did not arrive till this morning. we will dine together at six o’clock.”

checking the clock on the opposite of the room, you bristled.

“it’s half past six, Yue-Yi,” you gritted out between a clenched jaw.

she stopped her incessant typing, giving you a brief glance full of impatience. “your meetings didn’t end till half past six.”

you groaned with frustration, stomping back into your office and moving past Simon’s vacant desk without even a glance at it—a bad habit that you had developed to somehow will him to return quicker.

not this quick, you lamented in your head, rifling through the wardrobe (for special occasions just like this) by your desk, undressing in your personal bathroom with quivering hands.

someone knocked on the door politely, a three beat rhythm you recognized as Yue-Yi, and with huff you tugged it open, not sparing her a glance out of your own frustration. she closed the door behind her softly, moving closer to undo the back of your dress for you.

you wasted no time to pin up your hair, eyes darting to hers through the mirror, flushing to find her gaze already pinned on you.

with a grumble, you complained under your breath, “how could you do this to me.”

she lightly smiled, helping you pull on the fine gown, exposing your neck and a glimmer of your collarbones.

“i knew you would’ve ran away if i told you weeks ago.”

grimacing, you chose not to say anything, remembering how you had done the same a couple months prior. but it was just once—Simon had written to you saying that he would be in town for the night, and you had written him back saying you were just too busy that night.

it was a lie. 

oh how the tides had changed between the devil and his angel. it wasn’t out of your own revenge, but the gnawing fear wracking your bones and those simmering, painful questions running circles in your mind.

could Simon ever be yours?

it just wasn’t so simple anymore. maybe it never was.

Yue-Yi hummed softly as she pulled your corset tighter for good measure and buttoned up the back of your dress, smoothing it over before giving you a hug from behind.

“you look divine,” she said as you pulled silk gloves up your forearms.

“thank you,” you squeaked with a flush. she patted your sides before opening the door for you like a proper gentleman.

you curtsied for her and rolled her eyes, smacking your backside on your way out of the office as you squealed, and she laughed when you rubbed at your ass that stung beneath your gown.

moving through the townhouse, rooms of the place had been converted into work spaces, lined with desks of busy men with cigarettes between their lips that filled the room with a smoky haze. they paid you no mind as you followed Yue-Yi to the end of the hall, passing by the room of women typists who bid you kind goodbyes and waved as you descended down the spiral steps to the lobby.

there was already a horse and buggy stationed at the sidewalk with an impatient looking coachman, whose eyes darted between you and the watch in his breast pocket.

“do you women not know how to tell time?” he spat, and you gave him a narrowed side glance.

“it would do good on you to remember who your employer is, Mr. Busby.”

“that would be Mr. Riley, miss,” he shot back, opening the door for you nonetheless.

you ignored him but Yue-Yi didn’t.

“and you should remember that the miss is his lady,” she quipped, brow furrowed with a glare as she helped you up into the carriage.

that shut him up, grumbling something under his breath you couldn’t be bothered with as you slid into the leather carriage, Yue-Yi flush at your side as the coachman snapped the reins, horses taking off over the bumpy cobblestone road.

with a sigh, you said to her, “we ought to buy one of those fancy model t’s after today.”

she choked a laugh, clasping her hand with yours as you watched the passing scenery with a smile, though it didn’t last for long, melting from your face with every passing minute—every minute the distance between you and Simon closed.

the one-four-one mansion neared on the twinkling horizon, a good time’s travel from the inner boroughs of the sprawling city, far away enough from commotion where you could hear the soft drag and pulls of the ocean lapping at the shores. the mansion sat just near a cliff overlooking the pacific ocean.

the first night you had stayed for a formal event with important stockholders and other prominent figures involved in the family business, you had laid stock still in the ginormous bed, buried beneath blankets and thick, expensive furs, listening to the lulling roar of the ocean crashing against the cliff rocks through the open windows. a breeze danced through the room, brushing against your cheek so real and strong it felt like skin against your own.

blinking open your eyes, you saw Simon by the edge of the bed, his hand brushing over your cheek and hair in a mess like he had just awoken. without a word, he clambered into your bed, snaking beneath the blankets and pressed to you, bare skin hot to the touch and soaked through with sweat.

some words of concern had left you, some words you had forgotten now as you sat in the carriage, some words he had smothered with a sweet kiss. a kiss that you returned as you pushed him onto his back, shimmying out of your nightgown and undergarments with a practiced ease before straddling him, rolling your hips against him to pull gentle groans from his throat.

you leaned down to pepper kisses over his skin, sucking along his neck and his sharp jaw. then, with an earth shattering reminder of just how strong he is, he tugged your hips up his body till you hovered above his watering mouth, hot breath against your swollen cunt.

with a squeak of confusion, you had gripped at the fluffy pillows above his head, meeting his dark gaze as he pulled your pussy flush to his lips, guiding your hips over his face as he devoured your cunt, suckling your clit into his mouth till you were a shaking, crying mess.

it was strange and felt too dirty but your neediness betrayed you, just wanting more and more of him. even when he flipped you over, pliant and weak from a strong orgasm, and stretched your tight cunt open with his thick cock and low comforting words. 

good girl. my sweet little angel, my sweet little slut. just f’me, all f’me.

you weren’t sure why it always ended up like this exactly—somehow tangled in each other’s bed and desperate for skin against skin, tongue and lips on each other, and his low throaty whispers in your ear that sent you reeling over the edge every time with breathy, pitched whines and his fingers rubbing addictive little circles into your clit.

shivering at the memory with a hot flush of embarrassment, you pressed your thighs together, taking your embroidered fan and flapping it at your face as the coachman drew the carriage up the drive-way to the mansion, the butler and servants lined along the extravagant entrance of the victorian mansion.

just beyond them, one-four-one filed out the doors of the mansion, Soap striding up to the carriage with a loud greeting. the coachman opened the door for you but Soap waved him away, outstretched his hand to you with a rugged smile.

you took it, holding the hem of your dress up as you stepped to the ground.

“yer a sight for sore een, bonnie,” he said with a big grin and you choked a laugh.

“sore what?” you asked as he kissed your hand brusquely, not elaborating as he moved to help Yue-Yi out the carriage as well.

you walked up the steps of the entrance, John and Kate calling out to you in greeting. your eyes darted over Gaz and Simon, looking like a pair of twin statues with the way their arms were crossed over their chests and a stoic look pinched their face.

you bit back a scoff, letting Kate pull you into a soft hug as John looked down at you with an affectionate smile, hands clasped behind his back. turning to Gaz, he gave you a curt nod which you returned.

eyes sliding to Simon’s, his arms dropped to his sides, hands clenching and unclenching, lips parting like he was going to say something, but Yue-Yi materialized at your back in an instant, and his mouth closed, jaw clenched.

“Yue-Yi,” he greeted with a nod. she just tilted her head in response, a menacing scowl twisting her lips.

the look they shared passed something between them that you couldn’t decipher—like a silent argument ensued in the air between them before he let out a low huff, sending you a lingering look, before he followed one-four-one into the mansion.

promptly, you turned to Yue-Yi.

“what was that?” you probed, and she completely ignored you, pushing you into the mansion with an impatient, hushed reminder that you were late.

you bit back your frustration, letting yourself be led by the butler to the banquet table stacked with half-eaten food and empty bottles of whiskey and wine, the vaqueros loud laughter and chatter filling the cavernous dining room. they all stood at your presence, which you protested with a startled squeak, sitting down in an plush chair near the head of the table where John sat, and right beside Simon.

Simon pushed in your chair with an ease, face blank as he plopped in the seat next to you, lacking manners when he leaned an elbow on the table, a tense silence filling the space between you.

desperately, you ignored it, grateful that Yue-Yi flanked your other side, and looked down to the other end where Alejandro, Rudolfo, Kate, and Maria sat, a raucous laughter and chatter ensued. it filled the whole room with an expanding joy that you rode—joining in on a few conversations across the table, hyper aware of the quiet, hulking man beside you sharing low murmurs with John and Gaz.

his hand crept over to the arm of your seat, long fingers hanging off the edge where he rested his forearm, fingertips barely brushing over your thigh. you shot him a look from your peripheral, but he was still braced against his other forearm, leaning over to speak in John’s ear, his face furrowed as he nodded along to Simon’s words.

across the table, Soap piled your plate with food, one hand spooning out generous portions from different platters and the other tipping back a glass of whiskey into his mouth.

with a sheepish laugh, you thanked him, happy to finally have a meal after such a long, exhausting day.

you took a big spoonful of mashed potatoes, chewing happily when a vaquero across the table pointed out you got some on the corner of your lips with a mix of sign language and a couple words in english. embarrassed you swiped at it, but he just laughed, saying something in spanish as he smiled at you.

then, you recognized him—his twinkling brown eyes and gentle smile, tanned skin, dark slick backed hair that parted and curled around his ears. handsome in a soft, pretty way.

“it’s you!” you exclaimed, happy to see a familiar face.

he nodded, pointing to himself. “i am Javier.”

“your name is Javier?” 

he nodded again, then pointed at you. “you are Angel.”

with a blush, you shifted in your seat, changing the subject quickly. “how are you?”

when he looked confused, you tried to rephrase, “how are you feeling? good? bad?”

his let out an ah, eyes twinkling as he leaned forward in his seat. “good.”

then, he tilted his head. “escuche que eres la chica de Ghost. pero ya no lo parece.”

he was looking you up and down. “te ves tan bonita esta noche, Angel.”

his words were hushed, just loud enough so that only you could hear. there was a different, more intimate tone in them that had the heat in your cheeks just thickening.

“what?” you choked and his smile only widened.

you looked to Yue-Yi beside you, locked in conversation with someone on her other side, growing uncomfortable under the vaquero’s curious, lingering gaze.

you had thought that no one had heard when a strong arm had curled around your waist, dragging your entire chair across the floor with a screech so you were flush to his side.

“¿todavia parece que no es mia cabron?” Simon’s words were a low snarl that carried through the room and cut through the end of the other table. immediately, the room quieted, and Alejandro’s eyes darted up from his conversation, the smile melting off his face.

with a deadly amount of leisure, Simon threw his revolver on the table, eyes a glare full of challenge at Javier. you stared at the hard lines of his face and panicked, knowing he’d hold to whatever word he had just delivered if it was something as trivial as his male ego being threatened. especially if he thought you were being threatened.

when Javier reached for his own revolver beneath the table, you threw up a hand, standing to shield Simon.

“wait—!”

but Alejandro beat you to it. “Javier.”

Javier looked down the table at his leader that stood, hunched over and knuckles pressed against the table. Alejandro shook his head lightly, and Kate heaved a sigh, her cutlery clattering against her plate as she put them down.

“here they go again,” she grumbled distantly, blue eyes flashing when they met yours.

after a long pause, Javier finally leaned back into his chair with a huff, then turned his gaze to you once more.

“debo haberme equivocado. lo siento Angel.”

the smile on his face was deceptively soft, eyes never leaving your wide ones as he spoke, and Simon’s grip only tightened on your waist.

“Javier,” Alejandro repeated, sounding impatient, though Javier’s gaze on you was unflinching.

for a long, terrible, twisted moment, you watched Simon’s hand twitch by his revolver before it curled into a fist, and he sat back against his chair with a thud and a low grunt. finally, Javier looked away, and you sunk back into your chair, gasping a breath you didn't know you were holding.

at that, Alejandro straightened and held a bottle of whiskey up into the air with a smile.

“no need to fight my brothers and sisters. we’re here to celebrate our victory, vaqueros and vaqueras!”

at that, the table cheered and resumed its festivities, retopping their drinks with a tipsy hand so that their drinks fizzed over with liquid that soaked into the tablecloth. then, Alejandro gestured his bottle to you, meeting your eyes, mouthing out the words so that only you and Simon could see.

“to the devil and his angel.”

he took a big swing of the whiskey bottle, and the muddled feeling in you only sunk, jolting when Simon pressed his lips to your ear.

“sit in my lap,” he commanded and you shot him a glare.

“you haven’t talked to me all night,” you hissed under your breath and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“you haven’t either,” he countered, which you thought was rather immature as you looked up at him with a pinched expression.

with a little yelp, you jolted when his hand lazily slid around your throat. “and i wasn’t asking, princess.”

swallowing hard, you let him pick you up and drop you in his lap, curling both arms around you in a vice, chin tucked over your shoulder. you told yourself, chanted to yourself, that you were doing it to prevent any further bloodshed already spilled between the men and women of the room, your eyes darting over Kate and Maria flush together at the end of the table.

you clutched at Simon’s strong arms, leaning back into his massive body, turning your cheek so that your forehead was against his jaw, closing your eyes.

“sleepy?” he offered, voice gruff in your ear. gently, he kissed the lobe of your ear, and a resolute ache wracked your chest.

you realized, in his arms, this was the first time in multiple days since he had held you. you reached back to clutch at his neck, sinking into him.

“mhmm,” you hummed, grateful that Gaz and John ignored the pair of you in their own conversation.

then, he kissed your neck softly. “i can take you to bed.”

the suggestiveness of his words don’t go unnoticed. “now?”

“no one will say anythin’,” he promised, already pushing you off his lap softly. even if half the table watched you disappear through the rooms of the mansion with Simon’s arm wrapped around your waist, you found yourself completely uncaring, just nuzzling closer into him.

once you were both completely out of sight, he hooked an arm under your knees and carried you up the stairs and into a random room shrouded with darkness, the blankets and furs soft against your back when he laid you out over a bed.

you watched him undress in silence, undoing his vest and then his button up before you heard the clink of a belt in the dark and his dress pants dropped to the floor. he crawled over to you, completely bare for your greedy eyes.

“let me?” he asked softly, finger hooking in the low collar of your evening gown, and you nodded, letting him sit you up and unbutton the back of your dress. you tugged it over your head, uncaring that it crumpled the fabric, and flipped your hair over your shoulder, turning so you offered your back to him.

when he made no move to your corset, you sent him a confused look over your shoulder, lips parting at the sight of him breathing shallow, and swollen, veiny cock pressed against his thigh.

he edged forward with a low curse, kissing your shoulder as he untied your corset expertly, too expertly now, with a clumsy rush, your breasts bouncing when he practically ripped the thing from your torso.

a gasp escaped you when he bound an arm around your chest, kneading at your breast while his other hand tugged at the hem of your drawers. you lifted your hips, awkwardly shimmying out of them in his tight hold. he tore it the rest of the way down, and you chided him with disapproval that he ignored, arms squeezing you tight to his muscled, warm chest.

you could feel his feverish cock pressed into the curve of your ass, and you reached down blindly to stroke him but he grumbled out something like a no, burying his face into your hair and neck as he just held you there in that awkward position.

you clutched at his arms, feeling the muscled strength of them tense beneath your touch. “Simon?”

he hummed distantly, pressing pleasant kisses to your skin.

“i need to show you something,” he said, untangling himself from your body for a brief moment to step away and search for something on the floor. he took something from the pocket of his discarded pants, silvery and shiny in the dim light as he crawled back onto the bed and pulled you flush to him once more.

he looped both arms in front of your chest, the silver thing dangling in the air in front of your face.

you gasped at the sight of the pink jewel embedded in an ornate silver casing—dazzling even in the low light. it wasn’t unlike Simon to bring you back trinkets and small mementos from his travels, though they were always discrete, left on your nightstand after an intimate night, or the kitchen table in your apartment. 

this was the first time he had directly presented you with something so romantic.

with a content hum at your reaction, he clasped it around your neck, pulling your hair out from under the silver chain, pressing his lips along the necklace against your skin. the contrast between its cold metal and his hot kisses left you shivering.

“what is it?” you asked in wonder, clutching at the jewel against your chest.

“pink tourmaline,” he slurred against your skin. you met his half-lidded gaze from over your shoulder.

“s’my birthstone,” he said, voice deceptively soft as he reached around to toy with it in your fingers. a heat slithered down to your core, and you had to clench your thighs together to stave off the aching pressure of it.

the act was so possessive it left you hot with delirium.

physically branding you as his, a happy voice sung in your somewhere, though the logic of your mind swatted at it, reminding you this wasn’t how you wanted it.

you bit down on your lip, feeling conflicted as you stared down at the jewel in his fingertips.

when you didn’t respond to him, Simon gently pressed you onto your back, sliding over your body to study your face with a blank expression.

“what’s wrong, lovely? you don’t like it?”

you shook your head, reaching up to cup his cheek. “no. i like it. it’s just…”

he tilted his head, eyes flitting down to your exposed, swollen breast from his kneading, then up again.

“fuck me,” you offered, and his face pinched, pulling back from your touch so he sat back on his haunches.

“what’re you not tellin’ me, lovely?” he asked, angling your chin down so you were looking right into his dark eyes.

you swallowed hard. “Konig came and talked to me.”

he stiffened, grip on your chin tightening as he frowned. “he didn’t touch you, did he?”

“no,” you said, clutching at his wrist, “he told me that he wanted to stay in the city for me.”

with as much honesty as you could muster, you told him, “i realized that i care about him more than i believed.”

his hand dropped from your face, jaw clenched as a new void look swept through his expression, which left you icy inside and out.

“you want to tell me that you love him?” there was such a strain in his voice that it didn’t sound like his own.

“no,” you said immediately, and the tight bunch of his shoulders dropped. “i want...”

that voice in your head screamed and you tried to bury it but it came out wracking and loud. you screwed your eyes shut. 

you Simon, it screamed. i want you. you wanted him so bad it was soul-crushing. you wanted him so bad you’d rather deny yourself of the need, ignore him endlessly, if it meant that he wouldn’t… reject you.

those same, sharp questions pierced finally broke the barricade of your mind. could you ever hope for Simon to be yours? would he ever think you an equal? was it more than the power balance you felt it to be?

you looked into his stoic face.

“i want to start over.”

he tilted his head, voice rough. “start over.”

you nodded. “i’m a business woman. i’m a murderer. i’ve done awful things. i’m not innocent anymore.” 

you held your breath, hoping with all your might he would believe your words. you were so, so, so very afraid that he cared for a girl that you weren’t anymore.

you are a woman now, Yue-Yi had said to you with wonder after your reunion in san francisco, marveled that you had survived the harrowing gang war. 

he edged closer to you, creeping over you so his body bowed down to your own. his hands slid up to your cheeks, holding your face as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. his dark eyes flitted between yours. 

you pressed on. “let’s do everything over. no more secrets. retell me ones i’ve already learned.”

when he was silent, you reached up to gently hold his face in your palms in return.

“the one i love is you,” you admitted, amazed at how the weight slid right from your shoulders into some intangible pit below, just how it had been that noon with Konig.

you searched his eyes, finding nothing changed in them after your words. just Simon’s brown eyes. still just Simon. the clarity in that realization was like finally finding a foothold after months of free fall.

“you’ve changed Angel,” he said, quietly, like he was in awe.

your breath hitched. “is that bad?”

“‘course not. is this what you’ve been worrying your pretty little head about for months?”

you frowned. “yes.”

his whole body relaxed, easing down to trap you beneath his muscled body. “i thought you were rethinkin’ about marrying me.”

you winced, because in all technicality you were, but not because you were doubting him. you were doubting all of the unreliable circumstances that danced around the two of you.

he said softer, “i thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“i want you more than anything,” you squeaked and he cocked his head. 

only you could decipher it as the silent question that it was. then why’d you do all that to me?

your breath hitched, the guilt of neglecting him like a crashing, icy wave splashing over you. or, rather, you had neglected yourself.

“i can’t explain it,” you choked and he rubbed a hand over your chest.

“take your time Angel.”

shimmering tears glossed your eyes, and you said quicker than you thought, “i wanna be equals.”

the slow, soothing circles he drew against your chest stopped. “equals?”

“i wanna be more than this,” you said, clutching at the jewel on your chest, hoping with every fiber of your being that he understood.

more than the once innocent and naive girl he kidnapped.

but he was just silent for a long moment, eyes darting between your face and the little jewel, and you made a strangled noise of frustration.

“i want you to be mine, too,” you admitted, so embarrassed by the proposition that you couldn’t look at him.

when his silence just continued, your eyes darted over to meet his, face void of anything perceptible before he suddenly smothered a laugh, pressing a fist to his lips and twisting away so you couldn’t see his face.

“what—”

you scrambled up to see him keeled over by the edge of the bed, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Simon!” you shouted, kicking at his shoulder to get him to quit it, but that only goaded him on. 

with a sniffle, you wiped at the tears in your eyes and scrambled from the bed, standing up to stomp out of the room. even if you were naked and all, you didn’t care.

“don’t even try to run away,” he growled between laughter, winding an arm around your waist and pulling you back so you fell back against his chest with a yelp, fighting him as he wrestled you back down to the bed.

when your cheek was pressed against the mattress, back arched and ass pressed to his hips, you slumped with defeat and he let out a low, approving hum, laughter finally subsiding as he bent over you to nose at the crown of your head.

once he settled above you, he hummed again, an iron grip around both of your forearms that were pressed to the bed. he kneed your thighs apart, cunt spread and presented to him in the most indecent way possible. 

you shuddered, a burning heat in your tummy.

“silly girl,” he murmured, hips sliding forward to press his leaking cock into the softness of your inner thigh.

you gasped, squirming around in his grip, trapped beneath him.

“my cock was made for this pretty pussy,” he rasped, low enough that it sent goosebumps across your skin, a little whimper torn from your lips. 

“made for you,” he emphasized, picking up a hand that pinned down your forearm.

you looked down between your quivering legs, watching him wrap a large hand around his length and pump his cock a couple times before lining up with your entrance.

“already?” you whined, shaking at the feeling of his drooling tip pushing through your gooey folds.

“you can take it can’t you?” he cooed softly, leaning down to press a messy kiss to your cheek.

of course you could, you wanted to say, but the memory of how the stretch of your cunt around his big cock burned even when he prepared you made you tremble.

but that didn’t stop you from wiggling your hips back into him, wanting him to just slide in already, the wetness of your cunt hot and unbearable. you couldn’t keep from whimpering against the sheets for him.

at your meek display of submission, he whispered in a low, throaty tone, “good girl.”

slowly, he pressed his cock into your unstretched cunt, smothering your cries against the blankets. you screwed your eyes shut, tears slipping down your cheeks as you half-sobbed.

Simon smoothed a hand down your spine, his other hand going between your thighs to circle at your aching clit as he plunged further in.

“hurts,” you whined and he hummed, kissing your shoulder blade.

“want me to stop?” he offered softly, but you immediately shook your head, wanting to please him.

always wanting to please him.

“you’re perfect,” he purred against your skin, bullying the last thick inches of his base into your pussy till he was flush against your ass.

lingering there for a moment, letting the sharp burn subside as you sniffled against the sheets and he peppered kisses all down your neck and back, fingers still massaging your swollen clit.

“needed this so bad,” he admitted, hot breath against your back making your shiver, “needed this pretty little, tight cunt so bad.”

the first snap of his hips punched the breath from your lungs, the rest leaving you gasping, breathless, and mind dizzy as he fucked you. rough. rougher than you felt in a long time.

punishing, you thought dreamily as his hand reached around your throat and squeezed periodically to keep you from passing out.

his hips slammed against your ass, growling out low grunts that coupled with your breathy hiccups in the quiet of the room. it had you delirious and out of your mind, thick tears rolling down your cheeks and pooling at the mattress below.

when he stopped abruptly, hips flush to the back of your thighs that stung from repetitive impact, he manhandled you onto your back, twisting you on his cock as he draped your legs over your shoulders, bending you in half and ignoring your little whimpers as he continued to fuck you relentlessly.

when his hand snaked up to your throat again, you thought he’d give you those delicious little squeezes that had your cunt throbbing and aching, but he wrapped his fingers around your necklace instead, pressing the jewel of it into your throat.

his head was tilted, eyes predatory and clouded beyond recognition. 

“pretty,” he snarled, fingers digging into your cheek to keep you still as he pressed more messy kisses to your face as you whimpered.

not punishing, you realized, choking out a sob when he slammed deep into that sweet spot in you, possessive.

so possessive that it made your head spin, clit twitching for his attention, your hips bucking up into his rough movements as you whined for his touch desperately.

“touch yourself,” he commanded roughly, and you sobbed out a thank you, running a hand down your stomach to rub at it—but it just wasn’t as good as the rough pads of his fingers that knew exactly how you liked it.

whining again, he chided you with a tsk, leaning down to shut you up with a hot, wet kiss, tongue invading your mouth as he pushed your hand aside. he pressed his thumb against your needy clit, fingers splayed across your stomach as he abused the pebbled bud to perfection.

“oh, Simon,” you gasped into his full lips, watching the silvery scar of his upper lip stretch when he smiled, malicious and pupils blown wide.

“hm? tha’ good, baby?” 

“yeah,” you choked out, more tears running down your face when you screwed your eyes shut. he kissed them away with a softness that made you melt, curling into his touch, taking and loving every one of his rough thrusts that drove you a little further up the bed. 

so far that he held up a hand against it, broad and big body towering over your small, shaking one, dwarfed by him in the darkness.

he groaned, little strings of praise leaving his lips. “so perfect takin’ me, Angel. so small and tight and takin’ it all.”

you nodded, gasping for breath as your fingers twisted in the sheets, overwhelmed 

“this cock yours? hm?” he goaded, and you just kept nodding through your hiccuped gasps, hands running up his strong arms to sink your nails into his shoulders, tugging him down to you with a whine.

he relented, dropping down to squish you beneath his heavy weight, your thighs almost pressed to your ears as he fucked his thick cock into you, your eyes rolling back when you felt it throb inside you.

“tell me m’yours,” he growled in your ear, and you moaned, snaking a hand into his hair to pull at its roots and quell the crashing pleasure wracking your body with little overstimulated shakes.

“you’re mine,” you squeaked back, and he chuckled low in your ear, talking you through an orgasm with throaty murmurs.

good girl. come for me now. wanna watch your pretty face while you come. thaaas’ it, pretty thing, come f’me, come f’me—

and you did, every one of his words spurring you closer to the edge, thrown over it when he snuck a hand around your throat and squeezed, the cold metal of your necklace digging into your skin.

it was too much, and you came so hard you saw white, throaty groans in your ear as you came down from the high, Simon’s thrusts slower and more affectionate.

“did so well f’me,” he cooed, and you nodded weakly, still clutching at his hair as your body continued to shake.

“think you can do it again?” he asked softly and you immediately shook your head.

“no,” you sniffled, but he pressed his lips against your hair, a telling smile twisted them and you whimpered, knowing exactly what that meant.

you gasped when he suddenly pulled out of you, feeling light and airy and cold from the weightless absence of him. dizzy, you picked up your head, blinking your eyes against the darkness, pacified when he leaned down and enveloped your lips with his warm ones, movements slow and soft when he flipped you to straddle his hips.

you leaned against his chest, feeling just as woozy and dizzy as he angled your hips, dripping length pushing through your folds and catching against your sensitive clit.

“i think you can, lovely,” he said, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your hip. “can you try? f’me?”

you sniffled, sending him a pout that just made the smug look on his face stretch.

“want you to use me,” he rasped, eyes darting down to where his cock was nestled between the wet folds of your entrance—sopping with your orgasm and the pearly white liquid that rolled from the tip of his cock.

you whined, grinding down on him, feeling that needy thrum between your thighs again, and he hummed approvingly, guiding his cock back into the waiting clutch of your heat.

the position was unusual to you—so exposed in the cold air of the room, begetting you a whole new berth of control that you were unsure what to do with when you sunk down on him, watching his blonde lashes flutter as his eyelids drooped, sighing out a heavy breath.

once you were settled flush to his hips, you gasped, head tilted back and eyes wide at how deep the head of him nudged against that gummy crook of your inside that ached and keened for stimulation. 

“Simon,” you gasped, unsure what to do.

he placed two hands on your hips, dragging your hips up so just the tip of him was at your entrance, before spearing you back down.

you gasped when the head of his cock pressed right against that sweet spot again, and you clutching at his big hands on your hips, picking your hips up before dropping back down onto him, the new pleasure blooming through your body.

“tha’ it,” he grunted, lolling his head back into the pillows, watching your work his length with little breathy moans and gasps, “use this cock. s’all yours.”

you whined at that, whimpering a little, “mine” as you peered down at him through half-lidded eyes.

“mhmm,” he affirmed, using his thumb to play with your aching clit, “m’all yours, princess.”

a moan escaped your lips as you tipped your head back, riding him slow and sensual to your own pleasure, letting it overwhelm you with loud keens of pleasure, head spinning at the thick, pulsing cock between your legs.

all yours, your mind chanted, reaching up to pinch at your own sensitive nipples and whimpering at the sensation that mixed into all the others, watching Simon groan beneath you.

“such a dirty, corrupted little thing,” he grunted, thrusting up in time with your movements so he slammed a little deeper in you every time.

“gonna let me make you my pretty little wife, princess?” he asked, voice so soft as he cupped your cheek.

you nodded incessantly, babbling incoherent words and little pleas as you leaned forward on his chest, another orgasm rushing closer and closer to you.

“gonna come?”

you nodded again, pitched little whimpers the only sound you could push from your lips as he snapped his hips up, taking over the weak, shallow movement of your hips, thighs burning from the effort.

your whole body turned to jello, muscles going lax as you collapsed over him, core convulsing with sweet, delicious pulses that blissed you out, a roar of static in your ears as you screwed your eyes shut with a broken sob.

you hadn’t even realized your cheek was pressed to Simon’s chest till you were coming down from the intensity of it, mind still buzzing with overstimulation, as you just listened to his lulling breaths against your hair and the slow swells of his chest.

he brushed his fingers up your back. “alright, lovely?”

you nodded with a contented hum against his bare chest, tracing the mottled scars of his body softly.

you only noticed his throbbing, hard length still flush to that sweet spot in you when he bucked his hips up, and a surprised moan left your lips. 

“can i?” he asked, lifting your hips softly to slide his cock out the tight clutch of your cunt.

you weren’t sure of what he was asking for till he perched your leg up, wrapping a hand around himself and stroking, tip pressed right up against the rim of your entrance.

you moaned at the sight, craning your head back to look at the quick swipe of his hand twisting around his cock, hips bucking up in an irregular pattern that made you dizzy. 

he twitched beneath you every time slapped the head of his cock against your clit, making you mewl out with sensitivity, turning your head back to him, finding his dark, clouded eyes already on you.

he picked his head up in a silent offering that you took, kissing him with a delirious need, needing him to do something, needed him to come.

“need it,” you whimpered, grinding your hips down against the head of his cock, and his hips bucked with a low groan against your tongue.

“fuck,” he grunted, forehead pressed to yours, “you don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

that only left you confused, brow furrowed as you traced your fingers over his neck and collarbones, scratching lightly over the skin just to hear his breath go shallow.

“need you to come in me,” you begged, whining at the very thought of his hot, milky spend spilling into your cunt, not knowing why you needed it, just that you did.

he groaned loud, hips bucking up into his hands a few more times till he held the head of his cock right against your entrance and came all over your pussy lips, splashing them with a hot, goopy liquid as you whimpered, grinding down on the feeling.

you were half tempted to sheath himself back into your cunt, but his fingers already beat you to it, slithering down your stomach to curl up into your entrance. you gasped as he pushed the spend in you, hot and slimy and just as you had imagined as you ground down on his fingertips.

“this what you needed?” he asked, voice hazy and distant. you blinked up at him, his head lolled against the pillows with a lazy smirk.

shifting up you pecked his lips, humming as he fucked his fingers into you, spreading his spend within you. he pecked your nose in return.

“good.”

then, his fingers were sliding out your cunt, leaving you empty and cold after the accumulated sweat on your body had dried. but his arms were warm as he wrapped you in his embrace, turning you over to crush you beneath him again, just where you belonged.

stretching out beneath him, you winced at the sting between your thighs.

“sore?” he asked, reaching down to cup your cunt, and you swatted at his hand with a flush.

“s’your fault,” you said with a pout.

he just thumbed at your lower lip that jutted out, and you playfully bit down on it, satisfied when you saw a little smile on his lips.

“i promise i’ll stretch you nice and good beforehand next time. with a couple orgasms too,” he purred in your ear, and you only flushed deeper, hiding it under an indignant nod and a little hmph.

“but that won’t be happenin' for a while, pretty,” he said, rolling off you to sit at the edge of the bed.

when you sent him a quizzical look, beseeching him to come back and keep you warm, he just shook his head.

“s’improper while courting.”

you stiffened against the sheets, dropping your hand back down to your side. then, your eyes narrowed. “since when do you care about that kind of bullshit?”

he just bellowed a laugh, standing, tall and broad and stretching his compressed muscles in the open air. your eyes dropped beneath his hips, taking in the hair along his naval and his softening cock with a greediness.

tipping your knees open suggestively, you bared your intimates to him, and his eyes honed in on the messy mix of wetness caking your lower body.

“don’t do that,” he said, low and threatening as his eyes darted back up to your own, tongue sliding along his lower lip.

you couldn’t help but swallow at the sight of him, splaying yourself suggestively over the bed to entice him back. he just turned on his heel with a scoff, muttering something like insatiable beneath his breath before he walked off somewhere into the spacious room.

with the whiz of a match, you saw a space on the opposite of the bedroom bloom with light as he lit candles inside the bathroom.

in the meantime, you burrowed beneath the blankets and soft furs, humming with content at the warmth, brow furrowing when you felt them being pulled off your. with closed eyes, you felt Simon lift your leg, gently wiping your thighs and the sensitive place between them with a warm cloth, making you jolt at the sensation. 

he pressed an apologetic kiss to your shoulder before the blankets were on you again and there was the sound of rustling, footsteps in the distance, the rush of water, footsteps nearing you, and more rustles when Simon slid into the bed behind you.

you turned onto your back to blink your eyes lazily at him, seeing him propped up on his side against the pillows and looking down at you. you smiled, tracing along his jaw and the silvery scar on his upper lip before he stooped down to kiss you with an intensity, tongue softly brushing against yours, before he pulled away again.

“do that again,” you commanded and with a huff he complied, kissing you so hard it made you dizzy.

“better?” he asked with a relaxed look on his face, reaching around you to play with your necklace.

“mhmm.”

you clutched at his wrist. “this my first courting gift?”

he let it drop against your skin, snaking two arms around you to pull you flush to his chest. it was warm and inviting. exactly where you belonged. exactly where Simon belonged.

“naturally.”

you smothered a smile, slithering your hand over his bound around your waist, intertwining your fingers together. he nuzzled against you with a hum, yawning right by your ear like a big cat. 

“it was my last effort at failing to court you for months,” he admitted softly, breathing in the scent of your hair and skin shamelessly. you swatted at him, giggling at his ticklish breaths on your skin.

“leaving things around my apartment was courting?” you asked with a snort, and he grunted against your neck.

“i don’t know how it works,” he grumbled, and you drew lazy patterns across the veins of his muscled forearm.

“i could’ve taught you,” you sighed, remembering how your mama had described your daddy’s courting process.

Simon’s prolonged silence goaded you, and you began, “supposed to have a chaperone. first, you talk to her parents, gain their approval to pursue her, then—”

“i know all that,” he interjected, sounding sheepish. it was the first time you heard him so flustered, but you decided not to push him when you could feel him frown against your hair.

squirming around in his arms, he loosened his hold enough so that you could turn, taking in the strained look on his face. you pecked the corners of his scowl, willing it away, but it didn’t relent.

“then,” you said, brushing his brow with your fingers, “you fix a date to court her in front of her family.”

his scowl just deepened and you huffed a laugh.

“court me in front of Yue-Yi,” you offered, letting your head sink into the pillows, a droop pulling on your eyelids.

“i don’t want to,” he countered and you rolled your eyes.

“she’s the only family i’ve got besides one-four-one,” you said, stifling a yawn, “unless you wanna court me in front of John.”

he nodded slowly, like he was being thoughtful. “that could work.”

you scoffed, letting your eyes slide shut. “unbelievable.”

his fingers traced along your bare spine. “i’ve gotta tell you somethin’, lovely.”

“hm?” you prompted, tilting your head into the pillow like you were listening.

“i did ask your parents for permission.”

you stilled in his arms, breaths growing shallow, waiting for him to explain. when he didn’t, you pressed him.

“and?”

when his silence was only prolonged, you blinked your eyes open, lazily looking up at the serious look pinching his face.

“your mother was shot by one of Turner’s men in the street. it was a mess. don’t know how she got there, or where your father was. just hauled her down an alley and tried to save her.”

your heart swelled so big that it cinched your esophagus, and you found it hard to breathe around the beating appendage in your throat. 

“in her dyin’ moments, she asked me if i had done somethin’ to you.” he screwed his eyes shut, a pained look crossing his face.

“i told her that i had, but that i cared about you more than anythin’. i promised i’d marry you and be a good, faithful husband.”

gripping his jaw lightly, you shimmied up in his arms to press a kiss to his lips that he didn’t return, dark eyes flitting over your face.

“i think she wanted to kill me,” he admitted softly, and you just gave him a wry smile.

“sounds like my mama,” you said, trying to ease the pained look on his face, heart sinking when his scowl only strengthened.

“i tried to save her,” he said, voice gruff and brows pinched together, “i promise.”

you nodded, brushing your hands over his face, willing all of his pain away. “i believe you.”

he closed his eyes with a frustrated huff. “m’terrible at courting.”

you would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the dark roil of deep disapproval coming off him in waves.

“we didn’t exactly have a practical start,” you reminded him, thinking back to months ago. when it was the heat of a dusty summer and he was waltzed into your daddy’s saloon like he owned it, snatching your heart just at the first sight of his brown eyes behind the bloody layer of his glittering mask.

you could barely remember how it looked after it so long. you took in the handsome planes of his face just to remind yourself that you could.

“you deserve more,” he grumbled, still not looking at you. instead, you kissed his eyelids softly.

“stop it,” you chided, patting his cheek hard enough to make his eyes snap open.

“i only want you,” you said, enjoying the way his expression went sweet and gooey at your words, a sleepy smile on his lips, “there is no more or less.”

“this is it,” he said, voice soft as he pressed your foreheads together.

“this is it,” you sighed, curling your arms around his neck, letting your eyes close once more.

goosebumps rose where his fingers danced across your skin, picking up the ends of your hair against your collarbone and playing with it gently.

“marry me,” he offered, hooking a finger beneath the silver chain of your new necklace, rattling when he tugged on it.

“i do,” you sighed, letting him kiss you softly before his warm touch was pulling you down into a heavy slumber.

translations: — te ves tan bonita esta noche, Angel = you look so pretty tonight, angel — escuche que eres la chica de Ghost. pero ya no lo parece = i heard you're Ghost's girl. but it doesn't seem that way anymore —¿todavia parece que no es mia cabron? = does she still look like she’s not mine, bastard?

anyway! next up.... wedding scene 🌚 unless.... jkjk unless............. 👁️👁️ jk (unless...)

taglist: @poohkie90 @kunikku @tomiesdiet @silverianni @doublesuicidewithme @cliosunshine @one17 @mr-sol @warenai @saturnknows @migueloharaapologist2 @keiva1000 @kenma-izhu @lilvampirina @deltottoro @maki-z @leeeenistop @danika1994 @stillinracooncity @saevitiaa @itsalwaysbetternottoknow @karagd13-blog @nattywatty @oyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoya @havoc973 @mentallynot-here @aqua7ofana @ccerviee @haleidontknow @imjusttheretofightforlove @moonstonedeluluera @tieflingteatime @syddieuh @savakewl @shinebright2000 @bakugo-apologist98 @queenie-b- @whenyoushipuponastar

[bl00dlight]

A Song of Shadow & Flame

CANON Dark! Aemond Targaryen x OC niece Targaryen. | SERIES

All NSFW warnings apply in future chapters.

Author's note ●May be typos in this one. I got lazy and sleepy. Anyway hope yall enjoying these world building ass chapters. The juicy stuff is coming soon....hehe. Also the timeline is more so accurate to the books. The show timeline is ALL over the place. So I'm following book births etc.

Word Count ~ 3k+

Index

i ● ii ● iii ● iv ● v ● vi● vii ● viii ●ix ● x ● xi ● xii ● xiii ● xiv ● xv

iii ~ 'Liar'

123 AC

Visenya had sat in the library, in which she had garnered quite a few looks from the servants and maester’s which occasionally wandered through the shelves. She sat before a large hearth, her eyes narrowed upon the pages of the book she clutched so tightly. How utterly boring, she thought.

The princess wasn’t sure what desire led her to steal Aemond’s book, she wasn’t even sure what she was looking for as she scanned its pages hastily. She sighed, rising to her feet quickly as she decided to continue scouring its pages when she had little else to do.

As the day went on, Visenya had spent her afternoon with her brothers; Jacaerys & Lucerys - she watched as they trained with their swords. She smiled; her eyes gleaming as she watched the two ebony haired boys sparring amidst the grey bricks of the training yard. Visenya had always had a fond relationship with her younger brothers, frequently getting up to her most infamous hijinks with them at her side. They were not without their squabbles; especially given the many times she had weaved her way out of trouble by blaming the wide eyed boys. After all, they were younger than her, much less likely to receive any hard punishment, why not use it to her advantage from time to time?

She had recalled how upon sneaking into the maester’s quarters to ravish through the various odd ingredients and tonics. Visenya had somehow knocked one several of the more elusive concoctions from their shelves. Of course, Rhaenyra was all but indignant at her daughter, as whispers of the young princess sneaking through the halls spread throughout the Keep. However, all Visenya needed to do was smile sweetly at her mother and claim it was actually small, innocent Lucerys’ who had done the deed; and just like that, she had suddenly been praised by her mother for taking the blame for her young brother.

“GET UP!” The shrill voice her brother Jacaerys rang, Visenya shook her head, regaining focus. The sudden cries of their youngest brother filling the yard, her eyes widened at the scene, the small prince sat upon the floor, holding his head.

Visenya rose to her feet, making her way quickly to the two princes’ as she saw the small trickles of blood down Lucerys forehead.

“He is an utter babe.” Jace scoffed, dropping the wooden sword before folding his arms in resistance, he had been in a most tempestuous mood of late, Visenya noted how troubled he seemed. Always brooding, arguing. More and more questions seemed to arise everyday regarding their true father. Though their mother claimed it was Ser Leanor, all knew her brothers were fathered by another. Afterall, House Targaryen & Velaryon were both of Valyrian blood, how is it the boys did not inherit any features of such. The only defining trait being their dragon riding blood and of course… wild nature. However, none disputed Rhaneyra’s was indeed their mother, but as for Ser Leanor being their true father? Well, that was another matter…

Lucerys’s face coiled at his brother insult, fire sparking in the young boy’s eyes as he lunged for Jace’s legs. Suddenly the two had managed to wrestle each other to the ground, “YOU TAKE THAT BACK!” Luke wailed.

“TIS THE TRUTH!” Jace struggled to speak as his little brother managed to wind him. Visenya rushed forward, half laughing at their foolish antics. Suddenly her hands grappled at Jace’s gambeson, pulling him off Luke.

“Enough!” She exclaimed.

“Get off!” Prince Jacaerys scoffed, flailing his arms as he struggled free from his sister’s grasp, his eyes found Visenya’s, a brutal glare exchanged between the two siblings, Jace lowered his head.  

Visenya looked down to her younger brother, her hand extending before her as she helped the small dark haired prince to his feet. Gently her fingers pushed back the mop of curls upon his head, her eyes widening as she saw the small yet reddened cut, tears of blood oozing down the side of his face.

“He hit me with the sword!’ Lucerys pointed at his older brother, Visenya turned her head, Jace’s face angered once more.

“You weren’t trying to defend yourself!” Jace snapped back.

The princess shook her head, exasperated, “So you hit him with a bloody sword?” she sneered at her brother.

“Tis made of wood! He is putting it on… just look at him!” Prince Jacaerys’ once again coiled with a familiar rage, he huffed, turned swiftly as he began to storm away. Visenya walked after him, her legs frolicking slightly as she her hand hurriedly grabbed her brother’s wrist.

“Jace!” Visenya’s tone stern yet, a sudden worry fell over her as he simply stood still, his back facing her. The princess moved closer, slowly turning her brother by his shoulders. “Brother...something is clearly troubling you, so, out with it.” She raised her brow.

“Tis nothing.” He said sharply.

“Liar.” The princess moved closer, analysing him, “I can see it in your eyes. You’re upset.”

“I am not upset!” His voice harsh as a chord was struck within him.

Visenya laughed softly, her gaze smug as she took his little hardened face. Something endeared her by her younger brother’s ferocity, though he was but a boy, he had no qualms with fighting if need be, “Clearly.” She chuckled smugly.

Another moment passed as they looked at each other in silent, Jacaerys’ gaze weakened for a moment, he wished to tell his sister… wished to tell her how the talk of him and his brothers being bastards ate at him. Though he remained silent and then, ripped himself away from his sister’s gentle grasp. “Just leave me be.” His tone low.

With that, Prince Jacaerys turned once more, walking away with haste. Visenya sighed, a part of her longed to go after him, yet she knew in his own time he would come to her. The princess then walked back to Lucerys, gently taking his hand. “Let us find a Maester.” Her voice flat with frustration.

“No, I shall be… fine.” The small boy said. Visenya squinted, her expression tempering at the sight of his acquitted demeanour. The Princess, much like her mother, seemingly had a soft spot for her second youngest brother. He was far more docile than Jace, far more transparent in his uncertainty of the world. Though, Visenya oft saw the potential in Luke, those wide eyes much like hers able to be used in order to weave his way out of mischief. A trait they both shared, a trait which melted her heart. He was so much like her in many ways.

She tilted her head as she replied tenderly, “Sweet brother…” Visenya leaned down slightly, her eyes narrowing, “You do not have a choice, I fear.”

“But- “Luke began to speak once more before Visenya forced her hand over his mouth.

She bent down, peering roguishly into her young brother’s eyes. “I am much larger than you, do not force me to take you in my arms, little brother.” A flicker of a smile came upon her face as she took her hand away. Lucerys giggled softly, and the two walked arm in arm to the maester’s chambers.

●

Upon hearing about her son’s squabble in the training yard, the Princess Rhaneyra was furious, yet it had been Visenya to convince her mother to refrain from punishing Jacaerys on the terms she herself get the young prince to apologise to his brother.

Visenya entered Jace’s quarters quietly, all the years of sneaking around the Keep finally being put to good- willed use. Her eyes instantly caught her younger brother’s dark locks as he sat upon the side of his bed, his head lowered to the ground, soft sniffles filled his quiet chambers.

“Brother?” She said softly. The prince’s head turned slowly, his eyes scanning her, and he sighed.

“Did mother send you?” Jace’s voice was laced with a melancholy unlike what Visenya had ever heard.

“On the contrary, it was I who convinced her to send me. Her initial impulse was far more tyrannical.” The princess chuckled softly as she sat beside her young brother, she nudged him, garnering a small response as he smiled.

“Since when are you the type for good deeds, sister?” Jace teased.

“I’m not. This is no good deed, how am I supposed to make my usual mischief if one of my primary accomplice’s is spending his days brooding?” She tilted her head, teasing back.

“I am not brooding.” The prince folded his arms in protest.

“Yes you are. You are almost always like this when something troubles you. Exactly like mother, you are… you become totally disagreeable.” Visenya chuckled. It was true Jacaerys was indeed like their mother in that regard, he could brood for days one end and argue until all wished to cut his tongue from his mouth.

“So are you.” He muttered.

Visenya sighed and then laid back upon his bed, she grabbed his wrist, pulling him back. Jace lay beside her, staring up into the canopy above, despite his sister’s attempt he could not stop the discomforting thoughts within him. He was a bastard; Ser Leanor was not his true father…his mother had lied.

“Please, Jacaerys, speak it.” She gazed worryingly at him; his eyes moved down at the sound of her soft voice.

“You already know.” Jace slowly turned to face his elder sister, his eyes scanning her face, her features… the one’s he ought to have been born with. Though, funnily enough she did not inherit Ser Leanor’s deep skin, for that he thought it odd. In fact, Visenya looked nothing like his cousins Baela and Rhaena. Yet still, that hardly mattered as Visenya was indeed clearly of Valyrian blood.  The prince scanned her silver hair, the pale greyish violet eyes that adorned her face, her skin which remained pale in the winter and bronzed slightly in the summer. The prince was not jealous, he was merely melancholic, for at least she was able to love her father freely, in public. Ser Strong had remained a constant presence throughout his youth and yet, he had never allowed himself to follow the instinct of love he felt for the man.

Visenya felt her eyes water upon his words, silence reigned as she watched him scan her. Slowly her hand snaked to hold his, it was all she could do, all she knew how to do. Visenya was not very good at expressing such affections with Jace, she always felt he was far too strong for it, too mature to long for sisterly care, not like Luke. Yet now, staring into the witling eyes of her younger brother, she finally saw him for what he was. A boy. A boy who for so long had kept up the veil of strength; and in some regard she felt younger than he, far weaker though she was three years his prior. They did not need to exchange any words, it was true, she did know.

“Mother lies. I know she does not mean to, yet she does.” His voice soft, fragile.

“She must.” Visenya looked down, her voice a mere whisper. She understood her brother’s pain, understood what it was like to listen to their mother proclaim them all of Velaryon blood. Though she knew it was not true. Visenya knew her father was truly Daemon… she was just as much of a bastard as her brothers.

Rhaenyra had little idea that her daughter knew of the truth, that for many years of his absence, Visenya would receive ravens from Prince Daemon, detailing the story of how he had fallen in love with Rhaenyra, how he once wished to be wed to her… how despite it all, he adored Visenya; for she was born from the will of the Old Gods. It was a rarity for him to visit the Red Keep and he would oft arrive alone, without her half-sisters whom she longed to see. She recalled the few times he had taught her Valyrian, shown her how to ride Silverwing saddleless and most importantly; how he had held her to his chest, stroking her hair in the shadows of the Dragonpits.

Daemon had even shown her the Maegor’s holdfast which was a collection of secret passages through the Red Keep. He had only showed her them once, for they were treacherous things – winding and almost impossible to navigate. Many a man had been lost within them and never found again. In fact, the last time she had seen her father was that very night he showed them to her. In all truth, she could not help but feel abandoned by Daemon, for she would send raven after raven that would never return with a letter back. Only on her name-day would he make her know that she was not a forgotten figure in his life.

Silence settled between them, Visenya felt the sudden violent urge to tell her brother the truth, to tell her brother something she had kept from him for most of his life.

“Jace… I..” Visenya trails, her mind in throws as she feels her heart thud in trepidation.

“What is it, sister?” The prince pulled his hand away from hers, he sat up. It was obvious to him something had soured his sister’s usually impish mood.

Slowly, Visenya rose to face him, “Promise me you shan’t hate me?” She whispered.

“I promise.” Jace met her with the same sympathetic eyes she gave him.

“Do not think that I do not understand why you might be blue, brother.” Her eyes fell upon the bed. Visenya felt tears begin to swell, “I share the same trouble… regarding mother’s lies.”

“I don’t understand?” The prince raised her brow at his sister. How could she share his troubles, after all?

“Ser Leanor is neither my father.” As the words choked out of her, she struggled to meet what she imaged was his shocked gaze.

Jace felt the words hit his skull like a morning star thumping into a wall. Brick by brick, it felt like his mind crumbled before him, his life revealed to be another horrific lie.  The young prince said nothing.

“Tis our… Uncle Daemon. Well, rather, your Uncle Daemon.” The princess wiped a rogue tear from her cheek as she let the truth finally fall freely from her mouth.

Jacaerys found his voice hardening, he wasn’t sure why he was mad at his sister, in all truth he felt guilt for it, “You are just like her, then.”

“What?” She finally met his gaze.

The prince shuffled off the bed, folding his arms as he furrowed, “You are just like mother!”

“Why is it you get to know the truth of your father, but mine has been kept from me and my brothers? What makes you so special that she would tell you? Is it shame that stops her? Shame that we are not of pure Valyrian blood, shame for we do not possess the same features as you.. or as our supposed father, or even her?” Jace found himself with watering eyes now, he had been reduced back to child he truly was. Scared and anger at a world he seldom understood.

Visenya rose from the bed, hurriedly rushing to her younger brother, “No, no tis not like that brother. She never told me. In fact, she has little idea that I know it! Daemon swore me to secrecy, he said that if anyone knew of the truth it, it would surely put us all at risk. That it may cause a succession crisis, or worse… lead to mother being accused of treason and all our claims would be lost.” She said softly, taking his shoulders.

The two siblings exchanged a look of pure melancholy, it was difficult to say much more than that. Yet the two knew of something now, something which bound them beyond just blood. That their mother had tried so desperately to conceal their father’s not for sake of shame, but for the sake of fear. That her love made her unyielding to speak of the truth. Visenya watched as Jace’s angered gaze suddenly softened, she watched as he became but a boy again, her little brother in need of his elder sister. That softened gaze quickly shifted to one of vulnerability, as he then collapsed into his sister’s arms and wept.

●

The Princess Visenya made her way through the Red Keep, the hour had indeed grown rather late, and she had all but missed the call for supper as she spent her evening with Jace. An unusually solemn demeanour was cast over her, she made her way to her quarters, practically kicking her feet until she was met the familiar sight of the hall before her chamber doors.

Then, her eyes narrowed on a familiar sight… glimpses of the fire from mounted torches danced upon silver hair and a green gambeson. Aemond.

He scowled, folding his arms as he waited for her to cross his path. Fucking arse, she thought. There was no other way to get to her chambers without passing through this hall, and he bloody well knew that. She would have to walk past him, have to acknowledge him.

No, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledgement, for all she knew he was a phantom of sorts, or a mere trick of the light. She kept walking as usual, soon beginning to pass where he leaned against the wall when;

“I want my book back.” Aemond’s voice echoed coldly throughout the halls. Visenya did not respond.

A sudden squeezing grip caught her wrist, his eyes dark as he spoke bitterly. “Do not ignore me.” His temper was rising at her refusal to acknowledge him, he loathed it, loathed being looked over, treated like he was nothing. He would not take it from her, not today. He heard a small wince from the princess, then letting go of her wrist. Aemond regained composure.

With that, the princess scoffed and turned sharply, hoping to reach her chambers, finally. Yet Aemond reached for her again, his voice raised.

“I SAID DO NOT IGN-“With a sudden force Aemond stumbled back, interrupted by the princess shoving him with all her might.

“PISS OFF!” Visenya exclaimed, wrathful tears in her eyes as she turned once more, very sheepishly running back to her chambers.

The Targaryen Prince stood there for a moment, shocked by the sudden force and rage that had hit him. He felt humiliated… out done by her once more.

As he stood in the shadowy hall of the Red Keep, he watched the Princess disappear into the shadows of the night.

It was clear his niece certainly too, shared the blood of the dragon.

○iv○

[xxeycisxx]

Need | Matt Murdock

Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: you try to find comfort in Matt's arms

Author's note: this is my first smut- yay! to be honest, i don’t really think that this is a healthy way of coping with mental illness, but again, i needed to vent. Hope you like it, there might be some typos, if you find some, sorry in advance. 

TW: smutt, definitely 18+, praise kink paired with humiliation kink, p in v, but wrap it before you tap it irl, this is really just a fantasy. probably a slight breeding kink? edging,  little bit of angst.

Word-count: 3198 (sorry, i got carried away)

masterlist here

You were desperately knocking on his door. There was so many things that were on your mind right now. You felt miserable, your face was still covered in tears.

You went on a few dates, but you, as you always do, self-sabotaged and ghosted him for some time. But right now, you knew that you can‘t spend another night alone. So here you were. You didn’t even thought about what you’re gonna say, you just knew you needed to see him.

The door opened and you saw him, immediately fighting the urge to jump into his arms.

You and Matt met a few weeks ago at a bar. You were drinking alone, when Matt tried to hit on you, but after a couple of drinks, it was more about getting to know each other as a person, rather than just a one night stand. It was something more. You two really hit it off and you felt like he truly saw you for who you are.

„Y/n?“ he said your name with a surprise, he wasn’t wearing his glasses, so you could clearly see his face and his expression. He wasn’t angry.

„Matt…“ you said quietly, while wondering how to start a conversation, or even just explain why you came here and why he hadn’t heard from you in two weeks.

„What are you doing here? Are you okay?“ he asked. But his voice wasn’t filled with hostility, or anything else that might scare you off. But how could you explain this feeling that filled your whole mind and you felt like you can‘t fight it on your own anymore and there was noone else you could go to for help?

You kissed him, wrapping your arms around him and holding him as close as you could. He brough his arms around your waist and pulled you into his apartment. Your knees were shaking, at first, the kiss was hesitant, both of you had no idea of what to expect. You felt his big arms wrap around your waist, bringing you closer too, which made you more confident of your actions.

After a few seconds, he pulled away.

„Y/n?“ he asked, desperately trying to understood you.

„Matt, please. I need this,“ you felt more tears coming out. What if he didn’t want you? What if he found someone else already? What if he was angry with you? But you needed this. You needed to be held. To feel loved. To feel that someone cares about you.

„I thought you didn’t want to continue with whatever was going on between us…“ he said, while still keeping his hands on your waist, one of them starting to move along your hips. He was caressing you so gently.

„I just didn’t want to be a burden for you,“ your confession was like a knife going through your heart. You felt so ashamed of yourself.

„How could you be?“ if it would be possible to be cured by a sentence, this one would be it. You decided to ignore the urge to go through top ten reasons, why you could actually be a burden and just kissed him, focusing on a completely different urge that was growing inside your body.

He closed the door behind you and pushed you to it. He took your jacket off and then his hands started to explore your body. There was something about his touch that could make you scream. You longed for it so much. You longed for him.

You gasped for air between the kiss, and then felt his tongue on your lips, tasting you, taking you in. Your hands tangled in his hair, while one of his hands sneaked down on your butt and lightly squeezed.

„Matt,“ you moaned his name. You felt his cock twitch on your hip right after his name left your lips. Your hand started to slowly go down and gently palmed him though his pants. He moaned back.

„Do you really want this?“ he was already out of breath, but so were you.

„I need you Matt,“ you cried out, „I need you to fuck me,“

Matt picked you up in his arms and carried you to a different room. When you opened your eyes, you saw a big bed, that was all that mattered and all that you could actually take in in such a short time. He took you to his bedroom.

You still couldn’t believe that this was actually happening, but you knew that spending another night alone is something you simply couldn‘t affored in this mental state. You needed to be with someone that you could trust and maybe it would help you to stop thinking for at least a moment. You needed someone to protect you from yourself.

He started kissing you again, his lips traveled down to your neck, feeling his soft tongue on your skin. You took off his shirt and immediately started to touch his bare skin, enjoying the feeling of warmth that radiated off of him. Without any warning, you felt sharp, but pleasent pain on your neck. He was lightly biting the skin on your neck and a distinct moan escaped your lips. It made you dig your nails into his skin, he moaned back and quickly took your shirt off, too.

„You need me to fuck you?“ he said into your ear with a low voice, making your pussy throb for him, growing even wetter.

„Mh-mm,“ you mumbled, while trying to unzip his pants. Yours were gone in a few seconds, left you wondering how it was possible to actually do it so fast. But you weren’t complaining. After a few attempts, you finally managed to get his pants off too and he stopped your hands quickly from going back to his skin.

„Answer me, need to hear that,“ his voice was full of breath, pure lust coming from his lips. You tried to break out of his tight grip, but he was waiting for your answer.

„Need you to fuck me, please Matt,“ you said desparetely. He didn’t let go off your hands right away, but one of his hands moved to your neck. He squeezed the soft skin of your neck lightly, moving you closer to his lips, but not kissing you yet, which made you want to beg even more. You noticed how he tilted his head, as if he was checking on something.

„Good girl,“ he gave you a small kiss but still kept his grip tight on your neck, ,,dont worry, I will,“ finally he kissed you again, his tongue again tasting you and taking you in. Letting your hands free, his fingers unziped your bra and quickly cupped your bare boobs, with each moment focusing more on your nipples. He played with them between his fingers, pulled them towards him, so you had to come even closer to him. At this point you were moaning without no hesitation, completely letting yourself go.

„Love the way you sound when I’m touching you like that, sweetheart,“ he whispered to you. One of his hands started to go down, touching your pussy, that was now only covered by a thin layer of your completely wet panties.

„Can’t wait to find out what you’re gonna sound like with my dick inside you,“ he chuckled. You only answered with another string of moans. He took off your panties and pushed you gently onto his bed. Taking off his own underwear, he kneeled down between your legs, you patiently waited for his next move and observed him, towering over you. Your eyes swiftly noticing his throbbing dick, that made you doubt your recent decisions, but your mouth started to drool, just by looking at it. His body was perfect. You wanted to lick every inch.

He started touching your pussy lightly, just slowly grazing across your slit.

„Matt, please,“ you moaned his name this time and it made his cock twitch. You wanted to touch him too, but he stopped you with his other hand and held both of them above your head. He had you completely in control.

„You need to be patient, I want to enjoy this,“ his fingers touched your entrance, but he didn’t let them inside you yet, „you’re so wet, i know it’s hard for you,“ he was slowly moving his fingers from your entrance to your clit, not to make you cum, but only to make you want it even more, he was enjoying your body and testing how you’re gonna react to the things he was doing to you.

He took his dick in his hand and started doing the same movement with his dick this time. As soon, as his dick made contact with pussy, you wanted to scream. You wanted him so much, you needed to feel him inside you.

„Want you to beg me,“ he said firmly. You were so desparate at that point, you would do anything. He was still continuing with the up-and-down movement, you were pretty sure you would go crazy at any moment.

„Please Matt, please,“ you tried to look composed, but your voice was shaking. You felt him moving his tip between your folds, spreading your juices over your pussy. He smiled.

„You want me to fuck you so bad? Beg more for me“ he was mocking you now. But you didn’t care anymore.

„Matt please, need to feel you inside me, need your cum,“

„Good girl, relax for me then, so I can fit inside,“ he said gently, but still firmly. You loved the way he instructed you, he did it with so much compassion, but you still felt like you have to do everything he tells you to and try your best while at it.

He pushed his tip inside. It did hurt, he was so thick. But it felt good. You wanted to feel like this forever.

„You’re so tight, oh god…“ he moaned, stopping fro going deeper and actually letting both of you adjust to the feeling. It was amazing. You couldn’t belive you’re really doing this. With him. But anything you felt an hour ago was gone now and everything that existed for you now was Matt. He still held your hands above your head, so you couldn’t move much, but you felt a deep need to touch him and tried to pull away from his tight grip.

„Gonna let go of your hands, and you’re gonna hold on to me, as i go deeper, do you understand?“ he instructed, as if he could read your mind.

„mhh-mm“ you noded. He let your hands go and you instantly held onto his arms and beck, as if your life depended on it, as if he was helping you to go through it. You felt his dick go deeper- his tip was now inside you and another half of his shaft was still waiting for your pussy to accommodate it.

„You’re doing so good for me“ he praised you. It made your pussy squeeze around him and he moaned as he felt it, too. It surprised you, that he was able to notice such small details, but it also made you even more horny - knowing that he liked it so much. He slowly continued to go deeper and after a few moments, he was finally able to fit his whole dick inside you. You both moaned as he hit the deepest point of you. You were repeating his name like a prayer and trying to get used to the feeling of having him inside.

„Good girl, you squeeze me so nicely,“ he put one of his hand across your neck, gently squeezing, to hold you in place. He started to move inside you, in slow, long strokes, he repeatedly made your pussy welcome his dick again and again, it was getting easier for him with each stroke, as your cunt stretched for him and got wetter everytime he moved inside you.

His lips traveled from yours to your bare chest. He took one of your nipples inside his mouth and gently sucked at the sensitive skin.

„Oh Matt, please, more…“ you moaned. You needed him everywhere, on every inch of your body. He started softly biting at it, switching between sucking and biting made you afraid for your sanity. You digged your nails into his skin on his back, holding him tightly and pulling him closer to you. His strokes never stopped. He kept a steady pace through it all.

You needed more. You needed to feel more.

„Matt please…“ you begged, not quite sure how to form sentences at this point.

„Use that mouth, baby, tell me what you need,“ he stopped sucking your nipple and moved back to your lips. He kissed you passionately.

„Harder Matt, please, harder…“ you whispered to him. He paused for a second and then pulled out of you. He left your neck, grabbed you with both hands and turned you around, handled you onto all fours, as if you weighed nothing.

„You want me to go harder?“ he asked with a deep voice. He lined himself with your entrance and pushed inside. He went immediately into fast pace, bottoming out every time and fucking you hard. You moaned so loud now, showing him how much you like everything he was doing to you.

���Louder for me, sweetheart, I love the way you cry for me like this,“ he spanked you, but you wanted more. You needed to feel him more. You wanted everything he has.

„H- harder pl- please… Matt… harder,“

He paused again, his hand traveling to your hair, yanking your head back to him. He leaned to you, his lips lightly touching your ear.

„God you’re perfect,“ he approved. His hand squeezed your neck again, but this time, you were having troubles breathing. He started pounding into your pussy again, positioned like this, his dick hit your cervix and it hurt, but you loved the pain. You needed to feel it.

He let you have a small breathing pauses, when his grip slightly eased up, but after a few breaths, he went back to work. He let go of your hair and spanked you again, much harder this time. You were sure it will leave marks, but you didn’t care. You moaned so loud, his neighbours probably weren’t as happy as you were. He spanked you again and then paused. His fingers found your clit, he started massaging your little bundle of nerves and you felt tears coming out of your eyes. It was too much, but it felt so good.

„You like when I‘m fucking you like a slut?“ he mocked. His fingers not stopping. You tried to manage the feeling of having him slotted deep inside you combined with his fingers playing with your clit.

„Yes, Matt, please, fuck me like I‘m your slut, Matt, please…“ you begged again, you wanted to feel his cum spreading inside your pussy, wanted to make him feel good. He chuckled at your answer.

„Are you? Are you my slut?“ he asked, his fingers still toying with you, but his dick was still buried deep inside you, making no moves at all. You squeezed around him so hard, you felt your pussy throb and another set of tears escaped. You were moaning, crying but you never in your whole life felt this good. It was both humiliating and pleasing.

„Yes, Matt, y-yes I’m yo-your slut…“ you felt your orgasm approaching. The way he moved his fingers on your clit felt like heaven.

„Good,“ he approved. He resumed fucking you, but his fingers didn’t stop, as you were expecting. You were feeling him everywhere, he moved his hand to your back, pushing you hardly to his mattress. With one hand on your clit and the other one on your back, he was keeping you from doing anything other than what he wanted you to. You felt a bit light-headed, but his dick in your pussy kept you consious.

„Tell me who this pussy belongs to…“ he said firmly. He was out of his breath too, you felt his cock twitching inside your pussy, you knew his orgasm wasn’t far away either.

„Your’s… nn-nly your’s…“ you whimpered, feeling your orgasm getting impossibly closer with each thrust.

„I’m gonna cum inside you, do you understand?“ his pace was brutal, he was stretching your pussy so wide. You felt as if you two were the only thing that existed in you world right now. Only you and him.

„I.. I can’t -nymore..“ your orgasm stretched across your whole body, you were squeezing his cock, your moans filled the whole room and your whole body screamed with you. Every nerve in you was electrified.

„Oh god, youre squeezing me so hard, love,“ you heard him saying, „…gonna m-make me cum…“ his thrusts became more uneven, but harder, your orgasm still ruining your body. He held you tightly in his hands, keeping you steady, being held by him was one of the best things you ever felt.

,,Good girl, ahhh, yes,,“ you felt his warm spurts of cum covering your insides. Your orgasm slowly leaving your body completely destroyed. Matt was trying to recover too, but he fell onto you, holding you in his big arms, not leaving your spent cunt.

You both lied there for some time, trying to steady your breaths, to actually realize what just happened. He held you close and tight, as if he didn’t want you to leave. You let yourself enjoy this feeling for a moment. After your orgasm and everything drifted away, you felt empty and with each moment, the feeling grew stronger.

You tried to get up, pulling away from him.

You felt deep need to go home, feeling ashamed for what you’ve done. This was all too much. He let go off you, but his face was painted with surprise.

„I am sorry,“ you mumbled and tried to get out of the bed. He held your arm and stopped you.

„What are you doing?“he sounded weird, you didn’t know this tone of his voice and tried to identify it fast, so you could better understand how he feels right know.

„I don’t need to stay,“ you answered quietly.

„But you can,“ he was not letting go off your arm, ,,and maybe we can talk about it,“

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to stay. But you were afraid to.

„Or we don’t have to. But I want you to stay y/n,“ his voice was filled with something that was so gentle and soft. You looked at his face again, his eyes were unfocused, but looked as if they were trying to find you. He pulled you closer, bringing your faces together, his other hand cupping your cheek tenderly.

„Stay,“ he kissed you again. This time, the kiss was filled with need - not physical, but emotional need. You tangled your hands in his hair to pulled him closer. This kiss was different, but both of you felt the same thing.

He pulled you back into his bed and wrapped you in a blanket. He held you close, caressed you.

You never wanted to leave this bed.

.

.

If you wanna be tagged under my work in taglist, you can apply here!

[serenescribe]

Hi, Ell! hope you've been doing well ❤️ sorry for the rhyme, but its question time >:3

how about 4, 17, and 28 for the writing ask game?

Yet another writing ask game

4. Do you have any OCs? Do you have a story for them?

OH BOY. DO I.

okay so little storytime, when i was like, 13 to 16? i had a CRIPPLING fear of writing ooc characters. like i'd sometimes try to write and post fic but it was that fear that led me to not write as much as i do now. but i still had so much creative energy that i had to burn. so what did i do?

i made hundreds of ocs.

anyways, i have too many ocs and they all have too many stories ;v; but they are dear to me and i love them. granted i haven't worked on their stories as much recently due to focusing on fanfic more (and i'm also being vague because i don't think many people care for my oc tangents) but. augh. yeah

also i have a buncha danganronpa ocs in my fic nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy. which is on hiatus indefinitely, but my kids are dear to me

17. Past or present tense? Why?

i tend to default to present tense when i write fanfic, but i actually don't have a preference for either! sometimes i miss writing past tense; as much as i adore present tense, sometimes i'll hit a road block with tenses and go "man i sure do wish i was in past tense rn then i could just past tense Everything"

there's also something to do with descriptions and past tense being better for that (for the way my brain works anyways) but i'm too lazy. anyways i like them both! but i'll usually do present tense for my fics

28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

write down any ideas you get. i'm serious. i keep my phone next to my bed and keep my notes app out of my time restriction stuff because i get the most specific lines, scenes, random ideas when i'm about to pass out.

seriously, i have like six notes on my phone filled with rough ramblings and drafts for what would eventually evolve into full-fledged scenes for glaciers. i have done this for so many other fics too. i write down haphazard dialogue in lowercase with typos. i write scene staging (just shit like "character does x and y and then feels x and y") and then write it properly into a scene when i get to my computer. inspiration strikes at the worst of times so just jot it down! do NOT listen to that tiny voice that says "oh i'll remember it" because you WON'T. you won't. your memory is not immaculate, and you will forget.

it really does help to just have a pool of random dialogue, scenes, etc to pull from. it helps me figure out what i'm writing next when i remember "oh yeah past me had this idea which i can add here!"

[star-junk]

Only Bones

Ch. 3

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Alastor x ReaderOC, Vox x ReaderOC, Future Lucifer x ReaderOC

Second Person POV, Change of POV, Slow burn (or fast burn - really moving through the plot quickly), please forgive the typos.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Altered state of consciousness, possessive behavior, mention of dv, non-con elements in the future, cannibalism and just things not being nice--it's Hell.

General Notes: Still not sure if Alastor will remain ace within the confines of my story. Also, operating under many assumptions for Season 2 so walk with me on this one.

Author Notes: I know nothing about TV production so I'm just winging most of this. Continuing with the breakneck pace bc otherwise I'd spend endless chapters setting shit up.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” Jo asks.

“Hmm, I think I only feel better about it because it’s Rosie’s friend? He seemed nice enough.” You reply, sprinkling flour over the table for the dough you’re working on. The old radio you bought plays a nice melodic tune as you prepare for the next day’s special orders.

“He’s the Radio Demon, Nuria.” He insists.

“I mean, yes he is, but I hear the Princess is really nice too, so.”

He makes a point to walk over to you so you can see the skepticism on his stare while still stirring pie filling, bowl in hand and everything. “I just find it amazing how quickly you flip once money is involved.” 

“C'mon, Jo, it’s not like you’re any different.” You respond.

He pauses his stirring. “Yeah, but I actually have survival instincts." He argues, "You remind me of my uncle, you know. He used to work for the mob in the Greed Ring and guess what? He went missing years ago!” You roll your eyes, concentrating on the dough instead.

Jo refused to come on the agreed upon day, saying he wanted nothing in whatever it was you were getting yourself into. So there you were bright and early at the time and address the Radio De—Alastor gave you. 

Parking right in front of the Hotel, you had to admit the renovations made the place look like a 5 star stay. It stood out against the rest of dilapidated buildings in the surrounding area, and much like the V Tower; Different elements come together to represent a single entity. There was a radio tower at one end (no guessing who that space belonged to) and a red apple at the other.

“Quite the sight, isn’t it?” 

You nearly jump out of your skin. Alastor stands right outside to your van’s window. Your hand goes to your chest to keep your heart from escaping out of your ribcage as his smile widens. 

“H-hi, yes, yes it’s quite beautiful. ‘Morning.” You greet. “Dear Lord, you startled me.”

“My apologies, I tend to have that effect on people.” He opens the door motioning for you. “Please, Charlie is eager to meet you.” 

“Thank you.” You smile, reaching for your purse and the tasting boxes. He snaps one of his fingers and suddenly there’s a tiny shadowy creature taking the boxes from you. No matter how many years pass, you don’t think you’ll ever adjust to these kinds of things being a normal occurrence. He then helps you out of the van. “You're very kind.” 

“Ha! Aren’t you a darling.” He responds amused. You pause only for a moment before linking an arm with his when he offers it, his old manners shining through. You’re starting to see why Rosie likes him so much - ‘a proper gentleman.’

Walking up to the Hotel you take in the view. The landscape is mostly dead as it is in most places of hell but was at least kept neat. You spot some widow’s kisses blooming here and there, so the soil couldn’t be a complete lost cause.

“Do you have many guests staying?” You ask to give yourself an idea of how much work will be involved if things go well in this meeting.

“Hmm, not currently, no. But Charlie is hoping for more soon.” You get the feeling he's not very attached to the Hotel despite also being its Facility Manager.

“I don’t see why people wouldn’t want to book a stay. The renovations are quite nice, aesthetics alone should draw in crowds, if anything.” You are being completely honest about that.

“They’re… acceptable, I suppose.” And there it is again. As if he didn’t have a hand in that either, but for all that you know maybe he didn’t. “Though the staff is wonderful, a very welcoming bunch, you’ll love them!” He concedes.

You sure hope so. You swallow nearing the Hotel’s entrance, your hold unconsciously tightening around his arm.

“Oh there’s nothing to fret, my dear, there’s nothing but good ol’ chums here, mostly.” He says with a bit of flare as the doors to the Hotel open and you step inside. 

It’s just as luxurious inside as it is on the outside, of course it is, you don’t know what you were expecting. The varied crimson hues are heightened with the golden touches here and there. The furniture with elaborate designs looks expensive as all hell and yeah, maybe you could make good business here if—

“Hello, HI! Welcome!” 

A youthful cheery voice greets you. It’s Ms. Morningstar the Princess of Hell herself. You hardly have time to return the greeting as she takes your hand in a very enthusiastic handshake. Her eyes and smile outshine anyone you’ve ever met before. “We are sooo excited to make business with our first vendor.” She gushes with not an ounce of malice in her voice, “Alastor spoke very highly of your pastries.” 

“Thank you, your Royal Highness. A pleasure to meet you.” You reply, finally letting go of Alastor’s arm.

“Charlie is fine.” She waves off the title.

“Hon, we need to see if we even like them first.” Someone says behind her. 

"I'm sure we'll like them, Vaggie." She replies to a girl with long pale hair and sooty skin. "This is Vaggie, she’s our Hotel’s Manager .” She smiles, dragging the other girl by the hand. They must be close. The other girl gives you a once over before extending her hand.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” Her tone is way less cheery than her companion, but is at the very least neutral. “You’re one of Alastor’s little… friends?” 

Oh, whatever idea she has of you must be reset at once. “I just had the honor to make his acquaintance last week, Rosie introduced us.” 

Her brow perks up at that. “Wait, these are not— “

“No, Miss, I wouldn't dare.” You assure her. “Rosie has her own special orders. These are the ones we sell at my shop for the general public.” 

“So these are not people pies?” A girlish voice draws your attention below. A short crimson bob frames a single intense eye. “Are you Alastor’s new soul? Are those wings? You smell good!” The petite girl waves, her eye trained on you with a mixture of curiosity and predatory glee. 

“And this is Nifty, our Cleaning Staff.” Alastor introduces.

Ah. “Hi… Nifty, a pleasure to meet you.” You don’t even dare shake her hand.

“Alright that’s enough of introductions,” Vaggie claps stepping forward, “show us the goods, we still got work to do putting this event together.” Her bossy tones gives her away former (current?) military.

You glance at Alastor who merely chuckles before commenting. “She’s always like that.” 

Ah. 

Charlie guides you to the currently unstaffed bar where the tasting boxes were set. “I wish everyone could be here to give their opinion.” She sighs. 

“Babe, as long as you like them it should be enough.” Vaggie is right about that, you think. “Who knows what time Angel will come back and Husk? At this time of morning? Forget about it.”

“Alright, but maybe Dad wants to come down?” She says procuring her cell phone as you get busy setting up the samples—wait, the King of Hell is staying here too?

“Oh don’t bother His Highness, dear, it’s far too early in the morning.” Alastor says, resting a gentle hand over hers. “And hadn’t he been feeling rather… undisposed lately?” 

“Yeah, but I mean he shouldn’t spend so much time holed up there.“ 

“I can set some aside, if you’d like.” You offer, you weren't so eager to meet him, tense and overwhelmed as you are right now.

She smiles, turning to you, “That would be great, thank you.”

“Of course.” She was a breath of fresh air. It’s ironic the Princess of actual literal Hell turned out to be one of the nicest people you met down here. You hand everyone a plate with the pie samples. “Alright so starting from the right  is our shop’s best seller, it’s darkberry with yumava fruit. I should mention our flour is made with a combination of actual topside flour and wheat from the Wrath Ring. We use organic butter from cattle also from Wrath, its brought up by my shop’s assistant. And the sugar comes from... “ You go on about the ingredients and cooking method, watching as their faces go from skepticism to full enjoyment. “I can make the more savory ones as appetizers as well. Princess, I think these would go great with the event if you’re trying to foster a kind of environment sinners can call home and you know what they say, there’s nothing more comforting than homemade pie!” 

Her brows rise at that; Yup, she’s yours. She sets her fork and plate down, grasps your hands coming inches from your face declaring. “We’ll take 100 of each!” Oh Boy.

“What— Charlie, we don’t even know if that many will show up in the first place!” 

“Because we don’t know Vaggie, we should prepare!” And you can’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm.

“She a funny one.” Alastor comments, having read your mind. 

“Princess, how about we do 10 of each? That would still be plenty.” And more realistic to the numbers of attendees. “I’m sure you’ll have other foods to offer as well.” 

“Okay, yeah, sorry… I’m just kind of nervous, we’ve had a lot of inquiries lately” (‘Five is not a lot,’ the little maid chirps but you pretend not to hear her.) “about the Hotel so I want to make a good impression.” She admits scratching the back of her head and wow, she really does seem to care for this place.

“I understand, Princess, but your friend is right, it be a pity if the food went to waste.” You rest a hand on her shoulder. “But let me write down this really good recipe I know for frazzled nerves in the meantime.” You offer with a smile.

You thank the Princess once more for her business, it has been the smoothest transaction you’ve ever done, half of the commission already paid in advance.

Alastor waits for you, offering his arm again to walk you back to your van.

“She’s great.” You comment,  making your way down the pebbled road leading to the gates.

“That she is, my dear.” He answers, “Nothing like her Father.”

Oh. “Got a beef with the King of Hell?” 

“Hah ha ha!! No, of course not, nothing of the sort...” His frown at odds with his sharp smile. You prod no further as you near your van. “I thought you’d certainly take her initial request for a hundred pies— Oh the hilarity!”

You laugh along with him. “It just didn’t feel right doing that, you know? But maybe it would have been different if she had been a brat.”

He laughs, “Seems like you and I have a lot in common,” and who would have thought? “Well, I’ve delivered you safe and sound to your vehicle, so I’m afraid this is good bye— “

“Wait, Alastor.” You interrupt climbing inside the van, “I have something for you.” You procure a bottle of wine, it’s the kind Rosie said he likes the best. “A thank you gift for everything.” 

He looks from the bottle to you for a brief moment before responding, his head tilting to the side as if deciding how to respond. “Oh My, you shouldn't have!” He says finally bringing the flat of his palm up to refuse. “I cannot accept.”

“Aw, after I went through the trouble?” You shoot him your best hurt puppy dog eyes.

“Hmm.” The soft sound of changing stations comes through the strange filter he emits as his eyes settle on the wine. “Well, who am I to scorn a lady’s thoughtful gift?”

You chuckle, handing him the bottle.

………………….

The next day you stopped by Alicia’s speakeasy to pay the rental for the bakery space, being one of the handful of buildings she owned around the city. Dim cool light welcomes you as you enter, alongside the smell of cheap beer and cigarettes. Goodness knows how you were able to work here every night.

“The usual, Nuria?” Old Vince asks as soon as he sees you take a seat.

“Yes, the usual.” You nod. “Is she busy today?” 

“When is she not, doll. But let me let her know you’re here.” He leaves to get her as soon as he’s done with your drink. You hope Alicia comes quickly. One time you had to wait almost two hours before she remembered you were there. ‘I forgot’ she said, though you’re sure she did it on purpose - never getting over you leaving her employment. You’re gonna be so mad if she makes you do the same, you had some shopping to do today. In the mean time you sit there reviewing your shopping list making sure nothing is missing while you wait. Declining offers for company here and there.

“Hey there, beautiful.” Alicia’s fake affection draws your attention up. Her scaly skin and green eyes glistening in the low ambiance of the bar. Draping dark fins parted to one side to hide the ugly scar at the corner of her mouth.

“Hi Alicia. I’m here to pay rent.” You get to the point, going through your purse to retrieve your wallet.

“Yeah, about that, babe. Rent went up.” 

You have to be kidding. 

“What?! Again?!”

“Yeah, turns out demons from other rings are interested in setting up shop in the city now that we know angels can be handled.” She explains, crossing her arms to inspect her nails.

“Alicia, please don’t do this to me.” This could really affect the rate of your savings, you’re barely making enough of a profit - discounting the debt you have for the equipment, packaging materials, ingredients, electricity, Jo’s wages, the van, and your own personal expenses - your own rent. Why the fuck do you still have to pay rent in hell?!

“I could keep it the same if you came back to perform,” Oh this scummy bitch, “Dezba is long gone, so he can’t tell you what to do anymore!” She snorts mockingly.

“Do not!!” Your voice low as your body moves on its own, jabbing a finger at her chest. “Don't you ever dare bring him up again! Now how much is the increase, you vindictive old bitch!” 

“Twice for that.” She answers, unbothered. 

Fuck!

………………………..

You pour over the budget books back at the pie shop, reviewing receipts and expenses. The careful balancing act that took you months of hardwork and dedication  to get going toppled over by that single one unexpected expense. 

“Relax, Nuria, is not as bad as you’re making it out to be!” Jo tries to console you, hand on your shoulder. “You’re still making enough to cover even the rent increase.”

“But now I can’t save Jo! That’s the issue here! And what happens when the next increase comes? And yeah we’re doing okay right now, but who can say this will always be the case? Will other expenses start increasing too?! When will we ever own a place of our own if— ” 

“Nuria, Nuria! Relax, okay? You still got options, ask Rosie for help.” 

“No, I could never… “  She has been helping you enough, you slump over the table, you want to cry. You know you’re truly in hell when capitalism exists even down here.

Knocking at the front of the bakery pulls you out of your misery, you both look at each other. No deliveries were expected today. Peeking from the corner of the kitchen you spot a tall corpulent figure. You really should invest in a security system, you think in hindsight. You swallow turning one of the lights at the front of the shop.

The light reveals a man dressed in a swanky suit, a manic smile plastered on his face - a poor attempt at friendliness when his shark incarnation speaks to a predatory nature. 

“I told you we should keep at least a gun or two on hand.” Jo whispers.

“You must be Ms. Nuria! May I please come in? I mean no harm, I’m a representative from VoxTek.”

VokTek? You and Jo exchange puzzled glances before you decide to open the door. Jo goes to stand where he kept his studded metal bat for shady situations like this. Not like it could do much if someone with that influence wanted to do something to the shop.

“Yes. How can I help you?”

“Good evening, ma’am. I am here because your lovely pies have been quite a hit at the Network.” Really? That was days ago. “One of our producers would like to extend a warm invitation for you to join us as a special guest for our early morning program, The Vibe!”

Well, this is very unexpected. “I… don’t think I’ve heard of the program before?”

“It’s a talk show, with a focus on celebrity gossip.” Jo supplies.

“Celebrity gossip is such an unpleasant way to put it. The Vibe keeps up with the latest trends, entrepreneurs and entertainers of our time!” The VoxTek representative corrects.

“Then it sounds like my humble pies would be out of place in a show like that.”

“Nonsense, why our very own Velvette gave them her seal of approval.” He flashes his phone with a picture of a very staged-going-for-natural picture of a female demon holding one of your pies, your shop’s box visible right next to her with a caption: Wanted to see what the fuss is about. Gotta say, pie was pretty legit. That was… nice, though why does she look so off-put by it? You don’t get a chance to make more observations as the phone is pulled away and the shark demon extends his hand toward you, “Whaddaya say?” 

“Nuria, if you get on the show we could get more customers and hike up the prices too!” 

"Your imp is right, once in an eternity opportunity!"

“He’s not my imp.” It’s the first thing you clarify. “But I… “ There’s something you don’t like about this, un mal presentimiento, looking at the demon’s hand. But Jo has a point, this one thing could balance the books again. “Alright.” You reply, taking his hand.

He squeezes it hard. His fanged smile doesn't reach his eyes.

“My boss will be delighted, Miss!” 

---

[furrbbyx]

Unfinished! “Mummy”

I was not able to finish this story, but I'm working on rejecting perfectionism.

So here's the unfinished version of the "mummy" prompt from monster march.

Don't worry I'm still working on "The Mummy" fanfiction.

man x woman

cw: based off of the mystery crew, sex with a mummy (or would be if I'd got that far.) didn’t edit for typos or readability

approx 1500 words

Somewhere in the Andes mountains, probably Cuzco. It was mild summer day with a cloudless, infinite blue sky.

Four young adults and their pet dog have been contracted by the public officials of the town to investigate the strange and disturbing sightings of ancestral mummies . For nearly two months the people of the town have been crowding into the bureaucratic offices to complain about lurching, desiccated figures chasing them down narrow alleys and showing up at back doors, moaning. One man even claimed he was attacked in broad daylight when one of the creatures knocked him down while he was working in his garden. By the time the man got up to chide the rude person, he had only seen a figure shuffling around the corner and out of sight.

The small group of mystery investigators had been debriefed on the details at hand, and given leeway to explore many of the cultural heritage sites in an effort to investigate and gather clues. All day they had driven from site to site without trouble, but now as the evening advanced things were getting a little weird. Exploring one of the burial places, a many chambered volcanic caldera, is how the group ended up split from one another. A strange dweomer had risen up with a thick fog as they navigated the area. Of course spooky strange happenings were nothing unusual for the gang. It was the two scared-y cats of the group, who rushed headlong away from the supernatural, that made things more dangerous than needed.

That's how Miss V ended up alone, crawling over dusty rock, trying to find her glasses and her flashlight. Mister S and his hound had ripped through the chamber she had been investigating like they were being chased by the ghost of a bad all-you-can-eat buffet, and got Miss V all turned around in the Process. She'd been minding her own business, trying to understand some of the pictures the ancients had made on the walls.

"Those two!" V grumbled and patted the floor in front of her repeatedly. She squinted in the near darkness and hoped that her flashlight hadn't been broken when it flew out of her grip. For the millionth time she argued back and forth with herself, under her breath, about getting contacts.

"I just need to channel my inner Evelyn O'Connell. I'm clumsy but I'm going to solve this case" V said to herself. She crawled forward a little further, thinking she might have seen a blob that would turn out to be her flashlight.

A rattling sigh curled through her senses and made her body shiver with anxiety. She stilled her crawling and listened, on edge.

"Hello?"

Something moved behind her. Something hitting the ground, causing a gust a air to rush under her skirt, between her thighs.

"Hey, Mr F. Miss D, this is honestly not the time for..."

A long strangled groan filled the chamber.

Miss V froze completely. Her heart started racing as she tried to decide what to do next. She wasn't alone, but without her glasses trying to run would be foolish. She tried to breath steadily.

The chilling groan vibrated through the air again, causing Miss V to flinch.

"H-hello? Oh!"

Hands, like vice grips clamped around her hips and pulled her backwards

"Ouch! Hey!" V called out, annoyed now with the stinging cuts on her knees and palms.

"You can't just..." Her voice died suddenly as she felt rough fabric brush the backs of her thighs. A strange warmth came from the whoever was behind her, spreading over her skin.

V gulped.

Still trying to maintain her cool, she craned her neck slowly back, to get a look at the intruder. A man! Maybe. Honestly it was hard to tell for sure without her glasses. A figure not much taller than Miss V, covered in a faded cloak was kneeling behind her. V knew that instantly it wasn't one of her fellow investigators, yet the longer she stared, trying to get her eyes to focus, the more she felt sure that he belonged there, with her.

A foggy haze was seeping into her mind like the cool mist seeped into the mountains. Then her vision did clear, miraculously. Kind of. Her glassed were placed a bit awkwardly on her face but she almost make out the entire scene.

A man, bronzed skinned with high sculpted cheek bones and bark thick eyebrows, gazed back at her with a charming smile playing at his lips. His jet black hair was fashioned into a crest with the sides shorn and a thick lock of hair draped over the shoulder where the cloak was tied. The cloak looked as old as the ancients buried in that same chamber, the designs faded.

V was confused for a moment. This man was obviously a local, had a right to be here, but why was he dressed so? She looked up into his eyes, with that question on her lips but it rushed out of her head. The dark shimmer of his eyes held her, as more of the strange warmth eased her anxiety. Suddenly she felt an interest , an unchecked attraction, that could only be explained by magic.

Miss V looked at this cloak again and tried to remember if the marking meant he was a priest or sorcerer. Suddenly she felt sure he wasn't a local...well at least not a contemporary one. Her mind spun with the implications. Could the mummy that was causing such a stir be a real reanimated being?

"Beautiful". The word seemed to fill the chamber and to push out her inner voice. His mouth spoke a language V had never heard, yet she comprehended the voice as if spoken in English. It made a reverberating timbre of his voice, a little distorted.

"It's been too long since a beauty  like you came to visit me"

V felt herself bushing, and a cramp developing in her neck. With wince she realigned herself and took the time to straighten he glasses too. She found trying to turn around was a bit more difficult as the handsome stranger was now leaning over her his stomach pressed to her back.

" My Chuquiragua" His strange resonating voice filled her mind and ears again. Miss V shivered at the sound and clenched her legs, squirming under him a bit. A hand of his groped her thigh. She reached back and grasped his hand, guiding it under her thick sweater to her breasts and pulling down her bra so he could caress her tingling nipples. She felt mesmerized by his touch and by her own growing arousal. She let  him palm and squeeze at her large tits. Each time he pulled at her stiff rounded nipples, she shifted her hips against him seeking friction.

She writhed on the ground of the dusty old cavern with a possible mummy, feeling like a bit of a monster fucker. It sent a thrill trembling down her spine.

"Who are you?" V's voice wavered on the question

His rich resonate chuckle seemed to vibrate down her clit.

V was still as he leaned over her again. "I am your lover, do you not remember?" he cooed into her ear.  Miss V closed her eyes and shivered. When she opened her eyes again she gasped. The cavern was now an ornately painted chamber and she knelt on a wide flat platform among rich textiles and fresh flower petals. The room was cast in dim light from shallow oil lamps. The flame light seemed to shin and glow reflecting in the man's skin.

He  had sat back so V could face him. He was  kneeling but no longer in his ancient covering. He was naked. He was of a similar height to her with a wide chest and heavy arms. His torso and large thighs hinted at strength and rigorous physical activity, and had V wondering at his position in society. This bedroom and the fine linens, and his jewelry, for V now saw his piercings and the collar of gold around his neck, these hinted but did not reveal more about this mysterious guy. V would just have to imagine how he got such a good body. He was oozing rizz and it was potent enough to make Miss V feel like her head was filled with fizzy bubbles instead of rational analysis. He proved her right about his strength as he reached out and pulled her closer by one ankle. V giggled, happy to play the part of his lover as he kissed the bottom of one foot, not the least worried that she as now as bare as him in this unnatural vision.

The admiration she felt must have shown on her face. He seemed very affected. He grinned widely and spread his thighs further thrusting forward his cock. V smiled back, leaned forward to grab his golden collar and pulled him into a kiss. His mouth was hot and slick and Miss V didn't hold back from trying to shove her tongue down his throat. He urged her into his lap and squeezed her ass in both hands. V rocked against him as she straddled him and enjoyed the way he gripped her and pressed her closer. It wasn't long before they were pulling apart to gasp a few breaths of air. There hearts seemed loud and reflected the lustful insistence building between them.

When Miss V could speak she asked, "How did a man like you earn my favor?" She wrapped her arms around his chest under his arms and nuzzled his neck with kisses while he chuckled. He helped V off his lap and laid her down under him so he could kiss her breasts.

"You make it sound as if you don't remember how my tongue feels inside you" he cooed, managing to also sound as if he were pouting before he sucked.

V didn't immediately answer because all she could think about at the moment was his tongue curling around her tightened nipple.

[httpiastri]

i’ll keep this short because i feel like you might be getting tired of my really really long long asks and also because my heart still aches from yesterday so im not feeling v talkative so

- you made a type in pepe’s name and you made him pee and idk i found it funny okay 😭😭 and its ironic because as i was typing this i made the same typo too

- def trust your intuition!! i’m literally just a teenage girl but there’s been instances where trusting my gut feeling has lead me out and away from really danger or at least warned me enough about it so i could mentally prepare for it

- and i also agree that there doesn’t have to be many coincidences for it to mean something!! sometimes just one coincidence is enough because of the timing and nature of the way it even came about yk?

- i was kinda raised with the beliefs of two religions…? if that makes sense, of course. but even when one religion contrasted the idea of fate and destiny i think it’s something younger me could never shake off and no amount of lessons could ever change that belief in me, and idk but pepe’s season so far kinda made me religious again (this sounds so stupid i’m so sorry 😭😭) but like i do believe in fate and destiny but also in manifestation (which basically means we choose and create our path in life) but rn i’m believing in fate and that there is a reason why his luck (and i say luck and not season, because he is a very talented driver, and the only thing that has been messing him up is his luck) is so awful rn, and that he will shine on the top step of the podium again. he won in barcelona last year, and did the so so good in all barcelona testing’s this year, so even if monaco messes up his race again (which i pray does not happen), barcelona will take good care of her golden child, pepe.

- i realise ive rambled too much again 😕😕

- but yeah omg one of my biggest questions when i was child was why i was put on this world at this exact time and this location because like?? i was always a very emotional child but i was always grateful to be surrounded by so many lovely people, even when i was being bullied in school or whatever. but i also used to feel guilty because why me? when there are others in the world suffering, why did i get the better life, but i think that’s a bit too much for rn.

- also i think paul’s cockiness isn’t too surprising, i think in circumstances where he’s doing really well after two very important teams didn’t stick by him, it’s understandable that he would be acting that way but some of the things he says just makes me go a bit 😦😦 like the wonder kid comment and yesterday’s comment

- but yes i tried to keep it short but i really hope pepe gets his chance to do well again, and i hope its a win, because you mentioned patterns with maiden wins and yesterday my feed decided to just fill itself with pepe posts and i saw one from you from last year: https://www.tumblr.com/httpiastri/732051888669917184 and in the tags you said he had such a good start to the season but then got unlucky and i just looked back at last year’s race results and his dnfs at the end of season were so horrible too BUT he also did end up with 3 wins that season so maybe its like a sandwich pattern thing… where he did well at the start last year, got unlucky at the end of season, got unlucky again (minus his first race podium) and then becomes supremely lucky again at the middle to end of this season

idk im so tired and upset rn and another word i don’t know in english but i hope your week gets better as it goes by!! monaco is just this week so in a few days time, this won’t be the most recent pepe race that we remember, and hopefully by then his luck has changed so the most recent pepe week we remember is an amazing one (i hope that sentence made sense because my brain’s been lagging a bit recently) but yes, thank you for taking the time to reply to my v long asks, and i hope i haven’t been stressing you out with these asks because i really don’t want you to feel pressured to always type out a really long reply to mine— but anyway, have a lovely day ahead, and an even better tomorrow!!💗💗

p.s. thank you for writing about pepe snapping at you and giving you the silent treatment and accidentally making you cry because i imagined the exact same thing yesterday and now it’s in written form so i’m def not going crazy 😵‍💫😵‍💫 but i think id feel guilty if i cried and he had to comfort me because he’s been the one with the horrible luck these past few months?? not me?? but i think it could lead to some really sweet bonding where i give him one of my good luck charms which lead him to win or at least score a podium finish in his next race so

oops i rambled again im so sorry 😭😭😭

- 🪷

?!?! i would NEVER get tired of your messages wth???????? theyre the highlights of my day honestly 😭 im so sorry for being late to answer sometimes but ive been so extremely tired these last few weeks…. i promise to get better 💔 but please never feel like you have to make a message short or like you can't send this or that!!!!!!!!

i looooved reading the pee part of this message because i was like "😭😭 r u gonna realize why i wrote that maybe…." 😭😭😭😭😭😭 and then seeing these messages made me laugh out loud aaaa

i have decided to trust my intuition more bcs of you !!! it will be interesting where it takes me even if it's abt smaller things :)

don't say it's stupid, i think it makes sense!!! personally i feel like life is a good mix of all of those and while i do think you can choose a lot of what happens to you, i guess i believe that not everything can be changed because some things are more fate-y. but i do believe that everything will work out in the end and even if things don't go how you intend them to (/what you manifest), you'll get the right results in the end as long as you have the right mindset & so on? if that makes sense?? im also a believer in karma so like if you do good things then good things will definitely happen to you. so i 100% agree abt pepe and the fate thing, it doesn't matter if he has a few tough races because he's a good driver and deserves to do well, so if he just keeps fighting and doesn't give up then he will be rewarded in the end 🥺 oh i will be so so so happy if he gets that home race win again, it would truly be the highlight of my year 😭 but i have a good feeling about monaco again !!!!

yesss i feel the exact same way, i feel so insanely lucky to have grown up in this country, in this family, with all of these opportunities and all of the good stuff around me.... i think that a lot of stuff i do today also are very deeply connected to things i felt in my childhood? in a way that i feel like i've had like revelations abt stuff????? like i went through a rlly hard time with my family when i was like 10 and i really didn't wanna go to practice, but the second i met my friends and started playing i was just like "aH this sport has the ability of erasing all of my issues?? sign me the f up" and so 12 years later, ive dedicated my whole life to it..... idk if you get what i mean but i have so many other examples but 😭 but yes i totally get the guilty feeling, esp when im not doing what i should be or like using the opportunities ive been given. the fact that im allowed to go to school, which btw is for free (!!!!), and yet i don't find the energy to study? when people all over the world would kill to learn how to read?? and so on

oh yes 100%, i love the cockiness tbh, it's well-deserved. just like i love pepe's attitude too 🥰

yes yes yes it definitely could be!!!! fingers crossed for a good middle of the season 🥺 also so silly that i wrote abt spa because i was like sooo torn in spa 😭 because obvs i love him (wasn't as obsessed as i am rn tho) but i was so shocked at how he didn't get any kind of penalty (or did i forget abt that?...)...... yes it was probs the team's fault but still 😵

you put it very well, this weekend will be amazing and definitely one to remember <3333 thank you for taking the time to send me these long asks love!!! you definitely have not been stressing me out, i love love reading them and i do not feel pressured. i hope you're having a lovely week s far and that it gets better and better for the weekend !!!!!💗

awwww darling im definitely not going crazy too...... i love his soft side but i also like him showing a bit of emotion yk?? and yes pls like "no don't say you're sorry, im sorry that i haven't supported you enough for a win" 🥺 good luck charms thoooo....... my heart is melting 😭

yet again, shuuuush i don't wanna hear u saying u rambled too much!! you didn't ramble enough, i want twice this much next time!!!!!!! (pls don't feel pressured to write if you don't want to shdjfkhd i just love hearing from you 🥺 no matter if its short or long)(though i prefer long 🥰)

[anyway-i-love-vanderwood]

hey! i was just wondering how long you usually take to write requests? ive recently started a HC blog and i feel like some are so loooong and hard to write lol i as hoping im not the only one

My friend - you are not the only one. It’s hard to give a definitive answer on how long a single post takes on average, since there are a lot of factors (complexity of request, how much research I have to do for said request, how many characters I’m filling for, what kind of ADHD Mood™ I happen to be in that day...) But I’d guesstimate that headcanons take on average at least 2-4 hours for a full set. Like. to give some perspective here, the first Vega headcanon I did is over 7,000 words long. It took me all day, and it was only the Main 5. Hacker!MC counts in at 2,400ish for all eight (Vanderwood + minor trio), which is ~300 words per character, while the RFA proposing to the MC is ~2,000 words which is around 400 per character. I’d say those probably took me around 2-3 hours total, factoring in spellchecking, editing, thinking time, and just the blunt work of actually writing the dang things, giving me an average of around  800-1k words per hour. 

At least, according to my memory. I haven’t timed myself, though I do know that isn’t an unusual wordcount for me if I’m in the groove, which I usually am when hyperfocusing.

Minor trio ones take me less time, obviously, and whether or not the flat RFA ones take more or less time is really up to how into things I get. Also, some characters just take me longer to write in general  (looking at you, Jumin and Zen) and some I write really easily. (Often, I’ll start with Vanderwood because I always love writing Vanderwood and it eases me into things.) Basically - no matter how long you take, don’t feel bad. Everyone has different writing speeds and output amounts, and you’re beholden to no-one. You will not get to every request in your inbox. Hell, I easily have over 650 in mine!! There are very few parameters that cause me to delete requests, and I like saving them in case I get inspired or something.

I can give you a couple of tips if you want to write headcanons but are low on time/energy/spoons/whatever. 

1.) Make gif/image headcanons (example here.)  They’re fun to do, don’t take a lot of time, and sometimes a picture is worth 1,000 words.

2.) Put limits on your requests. Ask people submitting to only ask for two-3 characters per request. I’ve toyed with doing this myself - that way, you get to fulfill more people’s requests and do their favorites without stressing yourself out. Downside: it... makes it hard to organize a master-list lmao.

3.) Limit yourself to a wordcount per character. It’s easy to go nuts while writing, at least for me, but not every headcanon needs a ton of detail! Sometimes, just conveying one scene is enough.

Anyway, I hope this answer helped, and good luck with your blog! I’m rootin’ for ya.

[davosmymaster]

Triggers

A/N - This should also be warning: this fic is purely self-indulgent. I’ve written some of my own personal experiences in it as both a plus-size person and what people call “a late bloomer”. I try to give as little (and general) physical descriptions as I can for the reader, so you can read it however you like and this is not specifically a plus size!reader or anything. I think many people will identify with the reader in this, but if you think it can bother you please do not read. There are no talks of body image or eating (as you can check in the warnings). I had to give names to some original characters, though, because I don’t personally like the (yourfriend’sname) thingy.

Basically, I just had this idea and had to write it. Here it is. Hope you enjoy. (If you see a typo or something doesn’t make sense, remember English is not my first language no you didn’t)

TAGS AND WARNINGS - +18, Minors DNI, oral sex, p in v, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, safewords (mentioned), dom/sub dynamics (kind of), spit kink, cunnilingus, light bdsm (i think), hurt/comfort, bullying (mentioned), fighting with friends.

PAIRINGS - Jake Lockley x fem!reader

WORD COUNT - 6.4k

SUMMARY - At the wedding of one of your high school best friends, you're asked about your singleness. You snap back, revealing some painful truths. Six months later, Jake Lockley disagrees with every word you said, and makes a personal commitment to let you know how wrong you are, every day, for as long as he breathes.

TRIGGERS

One of your friends is getting married.

 You're happy for them, really, you are. They are a lovely couple. She's very much in love with him, and it's obvious by the way that he's looking at her when he says "I do" that he loves her just as much. They've been dating for five years now, and engaged for two of them.

 So why do you feel that constant ache in your chest?

Your invitation said to bring a plus one, but you don't have a partner and all your closest friends, both men and women, were already invited to the wedding. They have all brought a companion, either their significant other —most of them— or someone they are already dating but not quite. You can't help but frown at that last group, you are not sure you could cope with the instability of not knowing if you can make plans for the future with the person you love in case they decide to leave you tomorrow. No strings attached because, hey, you two were nothing.

 But you're no one to judge, not like you're doing it either way. And even if you did, they'd probably laugh it off because you've never dated anyone, and it'd be just a further embarrassment for your persona.

 In the end, you're the only one who's actually single at the celebration. You had hoped the groom brought some single friends of his. Not like you wanted to flirt with them, it was more a matter of not feeling like a weirdo; but the closest to being single you can find there is a man in his late twenties who's already filling up divorce papers, according to your friends. And that fact only makes you feel worse about yourself. He didn't come alone either, after all.

 There's one friend of yours, her name is Ava. She broke up with her boyfriend of four years like two months ago; so you sort of expected her to be in your very same situation. It wasn't a clean breakup. But she also came with someone and your eyebrows shoot up to the sky when you see her new girlfriend.

 "Who is that?" you ask another of your high school friends.

 "I think her name is Lottie," Olivia replies. "They're not official yet, though. But they've been seeing each other and she looks quite happy."

 You hum in response, wondering how on Earth people move on so quickly; especially after a four-year hiatus from the dating world.

 "I'm going to the bathroom," she announces, gently stroking her fiancé's arm before leaving the table. Her high heels dig circles on the green grass as she walks. The sun is unusually bright for a spring day in Surrey, and you hope your foundation doesn't melt before the pictures are taken. "Wanna come?" she asks.

 You nod and follow her inside.

 The first thing she does once she gets in is checking no one's inside. You had already thought that maybe she wanted to talk somewhere private. After all, you've known her for many years now and she's one of your best friends. You lock the door.

 "I just think it's impressive how quickly she moved on, to be honest," you say, because you can sense that's exactly what she intended to talk about. "Of course, I'm happy for her-"

 "What else did you expect her to do? Cry for two months?" she chuckles, although her tone is not necessarily friendly. She checks her makeup in the mirror and reapplies some of it. Yours is intact, and thank lord it is because you didn't even bring a lipstick. "You know, people don't usually waste time."

 You look at yourself in the mirror, wondering for a second if you heard correctly.

 "What is that supposed to mean?"

 She sighs audibly and puts her lipstick in her purse. Now she takes some compact powder and gently presses it into her skin. You might ask for it later. Not if the conversation goes in the direction you think it's going.

 "I'm just saying that, well- it's time to start your dating life, don't you think?" she says. "I mean, I don't want to be rude, and we've talked about this before. But we're not teenagers anymore, and you've never had half the experiences most of us had in our teenage years."

 Her words throw you off balance. She's maybe partially right, and she's touching on a subject that you're too sensitive about. She did say she didn't want to be rude, though. And she's been your friend for a while now, so you don't want to get upset right away.

 "I've had no luck," you say, leaning back on the sink and crossing your arms, not without making sure it is dry first.

 "See, that's where you're wrong," she says, pointing at you with an accusatory finger. "You're waiting for your knight in shining armour, just waiting. You don't flirt with guys, don't go to pubs-"

 "I do go to pubs, sometimes."

 She raises an eyebrow.

 "Once in a blue moon," she says, and you shrug your shoulders. It's not like you're the kind of person to go to pubs every weekend, but you wouldn't say you go 'once in a blue moon', you just have other hobbies than spending every single Saturday and Sunday of your life being hangover, but you do like partying. Plus, it's not like the guys who go there are waiting to put a ring on your finger. "What I'm saying is- you can't expect Mr Right to just appear out of nowhere, and obviously you can't have extremely high standards-"

 "So I should settle with the first person that comes my way. Is that what you're saying?"

 She chuckles under her breath, obviously annoyed.

 "I'm not saying that, but maybe you should not tell them to fuck off when said guy tries to hang out with you."

 You know exactly what she's talking about, and your blood boils. Not long ago she gave your number to one of her fiancè's friends. So it did take you by surprise when this man you didn't know sent you a text. He was nice at the beginning, which was the first two days that he texted you non-stop. He got upset for late-replying even when you told him you were busy, working, which was not a lie. Then he texted you at midnight, asking if you wanted to attend some party, and when you refused because of how late it was, he said.

 "What are you? Cinderella? You have to be home at twelve?"

 He obviously just wanted you for one thing. There's no decent man who asks for a first date at midnight, and even if you wanted to keep it casual, you wouldn't have accepted just because of the way he spoke to you.

 "Did you even listen when I told you what he did?" you ask her.

 "Yes, and I don't see why you didn't go, honestly," she answers. "You could have had a good time, danced a bit and talked to him. Get to know each other."

 "At midnight, half-drunk."

 "Yes," she almost shouts. "He could've had different intentions, but you'll never know- No, let me talk," she says, once you try to interrupt. So you reluctantly let her speak. "You can't reject everyone from the start, because no one is up to your standards, and then cry because you've never had a relationship before. Even in high school we were all flirting with guys while you stayed in the corner. Don't you think it's time to grow up?"

 By the time she's done, your jaw is hanging from your face. Half of you expected something along the lines of what she just said, but you didn't think Olivia could be that cruel; especially when she knows how much it hurts you to talk about this.

 "Are you done?"

 "I guess," she responds, putting away all her makeup.

 You bite your lower lip first, trying to regain your breath as you find yourself suddenly running out of air.

 "You've never thought for a single second that all the people you guys flirted with in high school, were the same people who bullied me?"

 She snorts, annoyed, and whispers. "Oh, you're gonna start with that."

 "Yes, I am, actually," you respond. Your teeth are so clenched that your jaw is starting to hurt. "Because while you were out there succeeding with your love life, having any guy you wanted, Ava's first boyfriend was rating me minus five in the rank of the prettiest girls at school.

 "I was always the fat friend, or the flat one. Sometimes both. Guys, even now, only get my number to ask me for your number. And in the rare occasions when guys don't completely ignore my presence while talking to you, or Ava, or any of the rest, I find out that they were only hitting on me because they thought I was the best they could hope for. And I used to fall for that, but not anymore. I've never been called pretty, or any other nice words. No one has ever bought me a shot. So stop, stop talking as if finding a semi-decent human being is just so fucking easy."

 Olivia just holds your gaze, but you can tell she doesn't believe one word of what you're saying.

 "That's your problem," she says. "You always victimize yourself, so much. And that's just bullshit. Worst of all is you believe you're doing the right thing. I really do feel for you."

 That's enough to plant a seed of doubt in your mind. But that happens later, once you're alone in your flat, back in London. At that exact moment, you don't think of anything as you just stand there, tears pricking in your eyes as she takes her purse, unlocks the door and leaves you there, completely alone.

 Luckily —or not— it's not the first time you've had this conversation with one of your friends, so you already know she's the one who's wrong. And there's nothing you need to change about yourself or the way you act. And thank God you don't, because barely two weeks later, you meet Jake Lockley for the first time. And it doesn’t take you long to meet his alters, either, and fall for every single one of them, the same way they do for you.

 Needless to say, you don't talk to your friend anymore. Not at the wedding, and certainly not after.

Six months later

You're bent over the kitchen table. Air has been knocked out of your lungs with the impact, and you're unable to regain it back as an open palm between your shoulder blades keeps you firmly pressed against the wooden board. You gasp like a fish out of water, and thank whatever gods out there that the man above you seems not to be too concerned about how ridiculous you look in that position.

 As a rule of thumb, your boyfriend Jake hates quickies. If someone were to ask him on the street what bothers him the most in this world, you're ninety-nine per cent sure he would respond 'quickies', with the most straight face anyone has ever seen on this earth. Not the London traffic, not even how hard it is to find a parking spot for his thirty feet long limousine in the city. No, what bothers him most is not having enough time to fuck you; and the worst of all is that he doesn't mince words. If someone asked him, that's his honest answer.

 That's one of the things that you both fear the most and find the most admirable about Jake Lockley. He has no shame, not one single drop of it in his whole body. He does not care a single fuck what anyone has to say about him. And you'd be lying if you said you didn't envy him for that.

 "Uhm..." he lets out a low groan from the depths of his chest.

 His other hand, the one that is not holding you in place, travels down your right leg. The pads of his fingers brush your skin gently, an almost ghostly touch as he makes his way back from the back of your knee, up to your thigh until he reaches the tender skin of your glute. All the muscles of your body tighten as you wait for a spank that never comes. Instead, Jake chuckles behind you. He relieves the pressure on your back as he uses both his hands to lift your dress, the fabric now all rolled up around your hips.

 "Oh, look at you," you hear him say.

 Not a single second later you feel the denim of his jeans over your cotton panties, his erection impossibly hard behind it, and you can't help but bite your lip and moan as he grinds himself against you. The pleasure blooming down there forces you to press your hips against him too, and you soon find yourself on your tiptoes.

 "Jake..." you groan. "We don't have much time, hun."

 He lets out an annoyed grunt.

 "Joder... (Fuck...)" he mumbles in Spanish. "I hate quickies."

 "It's the third time you say that today."

 He really does hate them. He doesn't see the point of fucking if by the time he's done you're not absolutely destroyed under him. He's that type of man; all or nothing is his motto. He doesn't know how to keep it easy. He likes the sight of round fat tears clinging to your wet lashes, even the salty flavour of them on his tongue when he kisses you. He loves to edge you, overstimulate you to the point of exhaustion and rage, until all you can see is red and he has to make you cum before you gather any strength and use it to kick him in the balls for not letting you cum sooner.

 Sometimes it's the opposite, he works your body up, plays it like an instrument that he's proficient in, dragging so many orgasms out of you that you have to beg him to stop.

 And then he laughs.

 But he cannot do all of that now. In fact, sex wasn't even in the cards for today, having in mind that you had stayed the night before in his flat and you were still sore from that session. The trails of yellow and purple hickeys on your inner thighs are the only proof of his merciless, sinful actions.

 All of that was true until he saw you all dressed up, ready to leave the flat to attend a theatre play that starts in forty-five minutes. At first, it had been even fun to watch how Jake's jaw dropped to the floor, how he kept looking and looming over you time and time again, his eyes slipping up and down your figure, taking in the black dress you were wearing. He had the look of a hungry hawk when he approached you, and you immediately knew what was about to happen.

 The left side of your brain told you not to let him, that you'd be late for the play. But then he leant in to kiss you, mouth open and his heavy tongue against your own, and there was no amount of willpower that could have prevented the scene that was about to unfold.

 Behind you, Jake kneels on the floor. He catches the hem of your panties between his teeth as he goes down. You only know it because you can feel his ragged, hot breath against your skin as he bites the fabric. Once it passes your hips, he lets them fall to the ground. Then he bites your cheek.

 It doesn't hurt, but a little cry comes out of your throat nonetheless, and without even taking a glimpse of his face you can tell that he's amused; the biggest wicked grin on his face. People hardly ever see Jake smiling, but that's only because none of them have seen him during sex.

 "Jake," your angry tone does not go unnoticed, and you're now supporting your weight on your elbows. "We paid a lot for those tickets, I refuse to be late."

 He groans.

 "Isn't there another show later?" he asks, but that doesn't stop him from massaging your glutes, his thumbs on both sides of your groin as he pulls the skin of your inner thighs aside to have a better look at your glistening folds. "...for god's sake."

 You don't know if that last sentence is directed at you, or not.

 Before you can ask he's licking your entrance, giving enthusiastic laps at your folds as he buries his face in your most intimate parts. His actions leave you breathless, fists tightly closed over the table as you hide your face between them, nails digging into the tender flesh of your palms. Your forehead rests against the wooden board, and you feel how you start to break a sweat. Desire and wet heat start to pool at your lower abdomen.

 "I asked you a question," he says then, finally giving you a second to rest. But he's not a patient man, nor does he enjoy being interrupted while he's having a meal, so he continues licking long stripes along your inner thighs, delineating the yellow and purple bruises —the hickeys— he marked you with yesterday night. You know he's extremely proud of his work of art, because he stops and kisses every single one of them.

 "No," you lie, because you know that he will have you there all night if you let him, if you give up on his desire of turning this quickie into something more. Although it doesn't look much like a quickie, to be honest. "There's no other showing, so please, Jake. Just fuck me."

 "Shut up," he says, his heavy palm smacking your thigh and you can't help but jump. "You have such a big mouth. I'm trying to get you ready, you ungrateful brat."

 And that's exactly what he does. He separates your lips with his thumbs and sticks his tongue in. You moan, louder this time, feeling the soft edges of his tongue inside of you, and you don't even try to contain any other sound that comes out of your mouth. His tongue gets in every few seconds, licking and lubricating everything in its path. Then licking long stripes, his tongue flat against your clit and rapidly moving to your entrance. Every part of you is now trembling, the shiver that takes hold of your body following his actions is violent, leaving you gasping for air as if you were dying.

 If you needed any preparation —which, with all honesty, you probably did— that is not the case anymore. A mix of his saliva and your own juices is pouring down your thighs, so if you're not ready now, you doubt you will ever be.

 "That's my girl," he says, his accent half-hidden half there. He checks his work with the pad of his fingers, barely touching you but enough to make you whine, desperately asking for something to fill you up because you're just so empty. And you need him to soothe that feeling. "Look at you, all nice and ready for my cock."

 Despite that, he licks you one last time.

 "Fuck-" you cry out loud at the contact. Annoyance is building up in your chest despite his praise. "I swear if I miss one single scene for your horniness-"

 He spanks you then, at last. It's no surprise that he does. After all, it took him long enough with how mouthy you're being with him, but it still catches you off guard. His heavy hand hits your ass without a single warning, and you scream at the contact. This time it does hurt, but it soon fades into pleasure all over your body like a sweet aftertaste to a bitter treat.

 Jake finally takes action. His hands curl around both your wrists and he spreads your arms on the table, so you have no support anymore. Next, he presses the back of your neck against the board, and it turns you on so much, being squeezed below him with such force, that you are gasping again, silently pleading for his cock.

 "I should've shoved myself in that pretty throat of yours," he said. "Maybe then you'd be fucking quiet, for once."

 And you say nothing back, because you know he's perfectly capable of keeping his word: cum in your throat, then leaving the rest of you untouched as a punishment. And you don't think you'd be able to handle that, go through almost three hours without any kind of relief until you get home.

 "Nothing to say now, uh?"

 With otherworldly swiftness, he sheds his jeans. You hear the loud click, the indistinct sound his belt makes when he unbuckles it and gets rid of it. Then the sound of the zipper, loud and clear: it's a warning. And now you know that he's holding it, heavy inside his fist while he strokes himself; precum coating the tip. When you try to look back to have a look, the hand that is still holding your neck tightens on your pressure points and you feel like a deer with its neck between the lion's teeth. All you can focus on is your own wetness. Your hips go backwards in search of friction.

 "So fucking needy," he hisses. "Don't worry princesa. I'm going to give you exactly what you need."

 You feel his hand on the back of your knee, but this time he grabs it and scoops you up on the table. With the new position, you're wide open under him. So much so that a blush settles over your cheeks as you feel the cool air on your wet flesh.

 Still, you're not given much time to think.

 He hits your clit with his cock, twice; before entering you with a deep thrust until he bottoms out. His hips are pressed against your butt. Your fingers close around the edge of the table, holding on for dear life. Your nails dig on the wood until you feel splinters falling off.

 He groans.

 "So tight. Always so fucking tight."

 While you try to adjust to the burning, pleasing sensation that has your brain melting; Jake's fingers find the zip of your dress. He unzips it, slowly, revealing the naked skin of your back and no bra in sight. The hand on your nape travels down your back, caressing all skin he can reach, until he touches the skin over your ribs, making you shiver, just to shove his hand under you and catch one of your nipples. He pinches it, hard, until you finally scream. Half pleasure, half pain.

 "Such a beautiful sound," he says. "Let's hear it again, shall we?"

 He rolls his hips back, mercilessly thrusting into you with such force that the table moves an inch forward. He keeps your leg on the table, your knee flexed over it. His hand falls on your ass for the second time, a bright red handprint now adorning it. He grabs your flesh, massaging it so he can have a better look at where you two are joined. That’s what it takes him to gasp.

 "Joder.”

 "Jake..." you moan.

 It's like he lost his mind. He starts with a rapid pace, relentless, not even giving you time to build it up as you go. He's holding your hips and not even minding that the screws of the table are doing the weirdest of sounds. He must not even care if he breaks it. He bottoms out with each thrust, every freaking time.

 You've always known that he becomes feral when you moan his name, but it's not like you do it on purpose. You just love the sound of it leaving your mouth, his warmth against you, his perfectly sculpted body, his chest against your back as he leans in to whisper something in your ear.

 "Tell me how it feels."

 Your eyes are squeezed shut, trying to take him as best you can. He slows down, not much, but enough to at least let you breathe, even though he is now squeezed against you. His teeth nibble on your earlobe.

 "Tell me," he encourages you. His fingers brush both your arms lovingly. "Be a good fucking girl and talk to me."

 Another thrust.

 "J-Jake..." you breathe out. Another. "Good. Baby, it feels so fucking good."

 "Tell me how much you love my cock"

 You notice that he's trying to guide the conversation, tell you exactly what he wants to hear because you're too cockdumb for dirty talk.

 "I love your cock so much," you gasp, tears pricking your eyes. "So much... so much..."

 He stops thrusting for a second but doesn't pull out. Quite the opposite, he is as deep in you as it is humanly possible. He chuckles under his breath, leaves a kiss on your spine and you feel him smile against your flesh.

 "My princess cannot even talk, uh?" he says. "Don't worry baby, I got you."

 He takes a handful of your hair in his fist. He pulls your head back, the action earning a loud cry that is soon muffled by a kiss. His other hand rests on your collarbone, making its way up until the pads of his fingers rest over your pulse points. You know he can feel your quick heartbeat under his fingertips.

 His mouth leaves yours, and you're instantly complaining with a whine. Even if he's just one inch away from your lips.

 "Open," he whispers, still holding your neck. You obey, parting your lips, and Jake spits in your mouth. The pleasure makes you clench around him. "Swallow," you follow his orders, and he squeezes your neck so he can feel the muscles moving under his touch. "That's my good girl."

 There's a stupid grin on your face when he says it, warmth in your chest when he pecks your lips as a reward. It's almost impossible to believe how your body can have physical reactions to his words, even without one touch of his. It's ridiculous how much you love to please him. That's usually how the sex with Jake works: he gives you orders, you obey, he calls you his good girl.

 You love it.

 He pulls your head back into the table, returning to the same pace he started with. His cock fills you up to the brim, as if you were the finest glass of wine. You're not even sure you have enough air in your lungs. But you're not scared by that, Jake is so aware of every single sound and movement you make, that if he thinks you need a break, he will give it to you, exactly as he just did a second ago.

 Then, through the maddening cloud of pleasure that has settled in your brain, you hear it. You hear it coming from him.

 "You're so pretty," he says. You instantly feel the lump in your throat. "You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

 It's not the first time he says it, of course not. He even said it the first time you met him, even if you didn't believe him at the time. The thing is he has said it before, so you don't understand how you simply shut down like a toy that has run out of batteries, how your body goes limp.

 You don't want to ruin the moment, even if it feels like you're going through an emotional storm all of a sudden. All the memories fill your mind like an avalanche, including every single word at that wedding not long ago.

 That's how you decide that maybe, if you close your eyes, you'll be able to retain the tears long enough for them to fade. So you do, while Jake keeps thrusting into your senseless body. His hand on your hair weakens, but he doesn't seem to notice, and you thank that the position doesn't allow much eye contact.

 But then he says it again.

 "So pretty right now," he says. "Dios (God)," he growls. "I can't believe I got you."

 The lump in your throat doesn't let you breathe, and that's when you burst into tears. You cry, because you never once thought in your life that you’d have someone like him in your life, let alone telling you how pretty you are. You sob and feel so immature right then and there, like a child crying for the silliest reason you could think of. In a desperate attempt at concealing your view from him, you bring one of your hands, the one that is closest, to your face, while the other falls by the edge of the table.

 Jake stops immediately.

 "Baby?" he asks, his voice low and full of concern. "Baby, baby, hey..." his hand barely touches your shoulder, trying to get your attention, but all he feels is the trembling of your body as you cry. He pulls out slowly. "Did I hurt you? Shit, did I hurt you?" his voice turns angry, angry at himself, but he keeps the composure for you. "You should've said the safeword, baby. Please, you have to tell me..."

 By the tone of his voice, the way it breaks on the last word, you know he's barely hanging out of a thread. He caresses the skin of your shoulders. One of his hands tries to uncover your face as you sob. You struggle against him, but he's stronger and once your hand is out of your face, he holds it down, his fingers intertwining with yours.

 "Babe..." he whispers. "Tell me where it hurts. If it's that bad we can go to the hospital, you don't have to be embarrassed..." he says. "I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so sorry. I should've noticed," then you hear him whisper to himself. "Soy un maldito imbécil. (I'm a fucking asshole.)"

 He leans to kiss your shoulder, then he rests his forehead against your warm skin.

 "It's not that," you respond. Your voice is barely a whisper. Tears are still pricking your eyes, some of them still falling down your face. "I'm not hurt."

 That catches his attention. Jake brushes the baby hairs out of your face and now you can see him. Tears are about to spill from his eyes, but he doesn't let them. He's frowning, confused, and his calloused hand rests on your hair.

 "You are not?"

 "I'm sorry I scared you."

 "Oh, nena, (Oh, baby girl)" he says, and leans again to kiss your temple. "Don't say that, don't apologize. Just tell me what's wrong."

 Despite all his attentions and not wanting to keep him worried about you, you hesitate as you look into his deep brown orbs. It's not that you don't want to explain it to him, but you don't know where to start. Where does one start to explain something that has always been present in your life? It's as if someone asked you how you learned to breathe. Well, it was just there.

 Jake patiently waits, until your eyes focus on him and he knows you're not thinking about the matter any longer. The more you think about it, the way you've been treated, all the situations and how worthless they made you feel; the more your eyes fill with unspilled tears.

 "Stay here, okay?"

 You didn't notice he was caressing your back until his touch vanished. Once he's gone, your mind starts to race, to call you names and think way too much about how annoyed Jake must feel for your sudden outburst of emotions. You bring your hands to your face, suddenly overwhelmed by the mess you've made.

 You stand on the floor, and it's not until then that you feel the pain in your hips, exactly where they hit the table with each of Jake's thrusts. The soreness is so familiar that you can already see the bruises that will mark your skin tomorrow.

 "I'm such a fucking idiot," you press your palms against your face, angry that you couldn't just keep yourself quiet.

 Jake comes back from the bathroom with a wet cloth and he doesn't say a word before kneeling right in front of you. You spread your legs to give him access, wondering what you did to deserve such a kind man.

 He cleans you up. The cloth is drenched in warm water. He cleans you thoroughly, with a care and gentleness you rarely see in his actions. You hold the skirt of your dress up to let him work, and he looks up at you just once, his eyes as big as a puppy's, just before he leans down and kisses one of the hickeys on your thighs. Once he's done, he takes your panties and pulls them up your legs, as if he had never touched you.

 "Thank you," you whisper once he's standing back on his feet.

 Jake shakes his head and brings you closer. He hugs you, your chin resting on his collarbone as he pulls your hair over your shoulder so he can zip the dress up.

 "All ready," he says, still holding you. His hand rests on the back of your head. "Come on."

 He takes you to the couch, where he sits first just to drag your body over his lap. Once you're sat, he surrounds your back with his arm as you hug him. Your forehead resting against his. Jake closes his eyes and breathes in your essence.

 At first, you don't know where to start, and the first few sentences don't feel quite right either. However, he doesn't flinch, so you keep going and all of sudden you can't stop. You start with the wedding, telling him about your group of friends even though he has already met some of them. You explain the whole situation as you look for a reaction on his face. Annoyance, probably, because you didn't let him finish for something that happened right before you met him; or disappointment; because he expected something much more serious than something along the lines of 'I was never told what you just said to me'.

 Then you explain the situations you saw yourself in. You tell him about the pain and the hurt hoping he understands, about the disrespect too. You tell him about all the times you were straight-up ignored, about the guys that only approached you to keep you busy while their friends flirted with your friend and they wouldn't even talk to you. You talk about being called a prude, people insulting your appearance and your hobbies, calling you weird. You tell him about that constant feeling you had, not feeling enough or loveable, just a laughing stock for both strangers and every single one of your friends. Maybe the very last option on someone's table, in the best of cases.

 That's when he shakes his head.

 "Half the time I feel so lucky to have you," you say, tears still staining your face. "That I wonder if you're real. When you kiss me, I remember how I used to think I'd never be able to show my love to anyone."

 "Oh, nena," he whispers. You can see the pained expression on his face. "I'm so sorry all of that happened to you." you can see the struggle in his eyes. He's looking for the right words to comfort you. He’s never been good with words. "But I'm here now. And I assure you, I'm gonna give you all you deserve, and all the experiences you never had. All of them are wrong, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. It's their fucking problem if they cannot see that."

 He holds you close, speaks over your hair.

 "You're wrong, you're not unloveable. And you will never be alone again," he says. "I'm gonna tell you how pretty you are until the day I kick the bucket, I swear to God."

 "Jake," you pull away slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. "Don't say that."

 "But I mean it," he insists. Then, he squints. "I'd like to see any of those fuckers that mistreated you and..."

 "Oh, stop," you chuckle.

 "Yeah, yeah, I stop, but you tell me if by any chance we run into any of them..."

 "So you can choke them to death? Yeah, maybe I will," you respond, and his shoulders relax, glad about your answer. "Not sure if I should be concerned about how serious you are right now."

 Jake chuckles, and you end up laughing too. His eyes sparkle when he looks at you, and he keeps stroking your hair and tucking it behind your ear.

 "Te quiero, preciosa (I love you, gorgeous)," he says. And even though your Spanish is very limited, you understand those words, because he has said them plenty of times before. "Come here."

 Gently taking your chin, he guides you to his mouth. He pecks your lips at first, right before his other hand falls on the back of your head and pushes you against him. His lips part, his tongue gently licks your own. He makes you moan. His forehead rests against your collarbone when he's done. He breathes in through the nose, as if he could swallow you whole just by inhaling you.

 "So... are you not angry at me?" you ask.

 "Why would I be?"

 "Because I ruined our moment."

 "No, you didn't," he says. He kisses your shoulder. "We needed to talk about this, we already did. We fuck all the time, we can finish that up later," he said. "My moments with you are always special, whether we are just talking, not doing anything at all, or fucking like rabbits."

 You chuckle again.

 "My God Jake, your mouth."

 "What about it?" he laughs.

 You shake your head and hide your face on his neck. A blush has settled on your features and you're not ready for Jake to tease you about it.

 "I love you too, by the way," you tell him. "I love you so much."

 He lets out a content sigh, his body sinking into the couch as he lets his head fall on the backrest.

 "My pretty girl," his fingers are doing circles on your back. His scent is intoxicating. Your eyelids are starting to drop. "You're safe here. No one can hurt you now."

 His own eyes fall shut as he starts drifting off too.

Tags:  @later-gators12 @bensolosbluesaber @winter-captain-01 @dark-haired-and-mentally-ill​ @mirrorballgarden​ @zem0laufeys0n @murdickdocked @loki-hargreeves​

Want to be tagged?

[planetdream]

— CHOI YEONJUN HARD THOUGHTS <3

this post contains; smut [kissing. pussy eating. pain kink. primal kink/kinda pet play mention. d/s dynamics. hard dom/brat tamer + soft dom yeonjun mentions. spit + cum play]

💌 yeonjun has been on my mind so i had to write a little something :) sorry if there are typos :(

i. absolutely loves everything that has to do with kissing. cannot go more than five (5) minutes without his lips being on you; whether that be your lips or elsewhere on your body. 100% loves to give you hickeys mostly because he's fairly possessive and can get jealous easily but he can help it :( he needs to show the world that you belong to someone !! to him !!

— but also because he loves the taste of you and the taste of your skin. literally can't get enough of it, it's like he's drunk on you. basically, he just needs to taste you—lick you, kiss you, etc—at all times, or else he's upset :(

ii. that being said... yeonjun loves eating you out. can't get over the taste of you and is always so overjoyed when he licks his lips minutes after and your cum is still stained on him. loves how you try to push him away when the pleasure of him sucking on your clit becomes to be a bit too much for you.

— he can only choose to hold you down and make you cum all over his face. it's better when you just give in and allow yourself to cum for him. promises to reward you for your good behavior, too.

iii. still, yeonjun is a major tease (and flirt!). as much as he loves kissing on you and pleasuring you, he's gonna make you work for it most of the time. he'll lean in for a kiss and pull his head back as soon as you close your eyes and lean in as well. will constantly give you half of what you want instead of all of it.

— he wants to see you on your knees, pleading for him to touch you with tears in your eyes. only then will he give you what you want and that's only maybe...

iv. see, i can't make this post without mentioning hard dom and brat tamer yeonjun, i just can't. there's something about yeonjun being in charge just feels right—he fills the role naturally, and when he's in this harder headspace: he's mean and strict. you are to promptly follow every rule and order he makes and you keep your eyes on him, no ifs, ands, or buts.

— he is NOT a fan of whining either; you have to use your words or else he can't give you what you want. however, just because he wants you to be vocal does not mean you can talk back to him without punishment. his favorite punishment to give you is 20 swats at your ass and you are to count every single one without messing up, or else you're back to square one.

— he's a sadist (at times) and really enjoys and gets off to inflicting some kind of pain towards you, within limits. loves to tug at your hair and drag you and fold you into the positions he wants you in. and there's nothing wrong with a few stinging slaps to your cheek or your cunt <3 doesn't mind biting you either lol

v. outside of him being possessive and marking you in every possible place he can, just because he can. he's got this primal kink. like you've likely seen how much he just... growls... basically, yeonjun can't help but growl at you sometimes, he just gets so caught up in the heat of the moment.

— likes to call you pup or kitten. usually, these pet names are thrown around by him in the most regular or innocent times. it's normal and just something that stuck. though sometimes, he can't help but call you his "pretty kitty" or his "needy pup" when his cum is plastered over your face and chest.

vi. okay yeah, hard dom yeonjun is cool but soft dom yeonjun :(( at the end of the day, he just wants to take care of you. loves to hear the sound of your moans and loves that look on your face when you're coming for him. just wants to kiss you and love on you—his heart is filled with so many precious feelings towards you, he has to show you how much he loves you :(

— he's a romantic too so he's gonna take you out to dinner, maybe even give you a little massage before he fucks you. whether he's treating you like the most fragile diamond or fucking you like a whore, he's gotta be nice in one way or another—you're his treasure !!

vii. on a more nsfw note: cum. can't help but makes you cum back to back because aaa you're so pretty when you cum :( and you're moans are heavenly to him, why wouldn't he want to keep doing it?? but also likes to cum in you and on you; swirling his fingers in and playing with the cum that paints over your belly. or, fucking his cum back into you, laughing when you squirm around and whine about the feeling.

— doesn't mind eating his cum out of your cunt when he sees it dripping out of you. will 100% spit it back into your mouth, and doesn't mind sticking his fingers down your throat either; just to make sure you swallow. times like this always reminds him that you're his and his only <3

© PLANETDREAM 2021

[bl00dlight]

A Song of Shadow & Flame

CANON Dark! Aemond Targaryen x OC niece Targaryen. | SERIES

All NSFW warnings apply in future chapters.

Author's note • Not proofread, may be typos.

Word Count ~ 2.9k+

Index

i ● ii ● iii ● iv● v ● vi● vii ●viii ●ix ● x ● xi ● xii ● xiii ● xiv ● xv

iv ~ 'Driftmark'

123 AC

After the birth of Prince Joffrey Velaryon, Princess Rhaenyra had swiftly decided to take herself, her husband and their children to live upon Dragonstone amidst the dark rumours which followed the parentage of her son’s. Similar rumours followed her daughter, the Princess Visenya; however, it was claims of her father being not that or Ser Harwin Strong, but of Daemon Targaryen. Much like her brothers, Visenya bared little resemblance to her proclaimed father Laenor Velaryon and upon the birth of Prince Joffrey, another son born to Rhaneyra, of pale skin and dark hair; the difference in appearance grew beyond stark.

Despite this, Visenya had adored her new life on Dragonstone, she felt it suited her much greater than the piss smelling streets of King’s Landing. Whether it be from the raging storms or thick smell of volcanic ash wish drifted upon the wind; the shores of Dragonstone were utterly ideal for Visenya. She had seldom thought of her Uncle Aemond, since last seeing him all those moons ago – however, she found herself reluctant still to be rid of his copy of ‘Age’s of Heros’ that she had stolen from him.

Much like everything else in the Princesses quarters, she kept the copy stacked carelessly upon her unkept bookshelf. She felt dissatisfied with the current furnishings of her quarters, currently they seemed quite plain, besides the detailed patterned carvings in the stone arches over her bed, of course. Today, was like many other days upon Dragonstone, drizzling with rain with the low rumbles of thunder over the horizon, yet Visenya had spent most of her day brooding. No, even the electrifying atmosphere could lift Visenya’s spirits – as her name day had finally arrived she was of ten and three now. Soon to be a woman as her mother had greeted her that morning, presenting her with an array of gorgeous silken, jewelled toned gowns and shoes. Her father, Ser Leanor had gifted her two sapphire and jade coloured gowns as he wished to see her adorn the House Velaryon shades more often. Blue was a colour she seldom wore, though Ser Leanor had insisted she wear one of his gifted gowns today. Among the sea of treasures Lord’s from across the realm had sent, along with propositions for betrothals to their young and sometimes old sons. Indeed, Visenya had been spoiled with many arriving Ravens, however there was only one she truly longed to receive.

The Princess sat, gloomily looking out upon the swirling tides of The Narrow Sea. Her deep blue gown gleaming as the last light of the day passed beyond the horizon. Despite the planned festivities and newly given treasures she had been on the verge of tears since the afternoon – since no mention of a raven from her true father Daemon had been accounted for. He always sent a raven on her name day, always.

 She had supposed he must truly be happily busy in Pentos, so happy with his tempered lifestyle that he had all but forgotten of her. I mean, he did have her half-sisters to indulge wit his affections, surely watching them grow every day with such pride that poor Visenya was simply out of sight, out of mind. Her mind stewed with all the possibilities regarding his silence, jealously and sorrow filled her as every passing hour came with it a new level of disappointment.

Yet still, she waited, hoping to see another raven glide through the sky; hoping to see the likes of something that would never come.

●

The servants tended to Visenya, braiding her hair lavishly for her name day supper. Her low mood did not escape the notice of her handmaid Olenna, who gently squeezed her hand; somehow Visenya could sense the woman knew of her troubles.

The hour passed swiftly, and the Princess had waited impatiently to be sent for supper. Olenna had readied her chambers, so many times in fact did she adjust any crease or crinkle upon the Princesses bed that Visenya had to all but command Olenna to sit and entertain herself with a book.

Echoing footsteps dawned upon the opening of her chambers, Visenya stood apprehensively her brow raised at the frantic whispering she heard. She looked to Olenna, who suddenly readjusted herself and stood quickly, a familiar soft voice beckoned her head to turn.

“My girl…come.” Princess Rhaenyra stood, extending her hand as she awaited her daughter to follow. Visenya moved apprehensively, once her hand met the warmth of her mother’s Visenya furrowed her brows in concern as Rhaenyra led her quietly out into the halls of Dragonstone.

The two had not uttered a word, Visenya knew something was amiss, something was terribly wrong. What if it is her father? What if Daemon has been struck down in Pentos or found dead in a ditch? What if that is why he never sent for a letter. Oh Gods, she was going to be sick, no she was to faint. The feeling built and built within her, brewing within her as she found herself riddled with tormenting thoughts of all the possibilities. The Princess stopped her face white with dread as tears filled her eyes.

“Is it my father?” The words escaped her mouth before she could stop herself, but she had to know. She needed to know.

Rhaenyra turned and stepped forward to reach her daughters hands, she shook her head, “Gods no… no father is with your brothers. Come, we must speak to you.”

Visenya trembled, her voice like gossamer, she hesitated for a moment, hesitated in revealing the truth, that she knew of her mother’s lies, knew she was indeed of Daemon’s blood. “No! No, not Ser Leanor.” Her voice meek.

Rhaneyra’s eyes widened, her face dropping further as the silence filled the space between them. Her mind raced, her emotions swelling with anger and fear, yet also with acquiescence – she sighed and shook her head. After all, it was not the fault of her daughter’s that she had been sold a falsehood, Rhan    eyra had supposed had she never wished for Visenya to discover the truth she would have put a stop to Daemon contacting the young Princess. Yet, she didn’t.

Rhaenyra gripped her daughter’s wrist, pulling her softly towards her, she looked around making sure they were indeed without any other company who might hear such an admittance. “As I said, your father is fine.” Princess Rhaenyra gave her daughter a sympathetic look, allowing the two to come to an understanding as she stroked her daughter’s cheek. “Come.”

With that, Visenya was soon taken to the hearth of the throne room, she looked with wide unsure eyes, still dressed in her fine sapphire blue gown. Ser Leanor sitting upon a grand, leather arm chair as he clutched the hand of Lucerys trembled, shaking his head as his eyes met Visenya’s, she saw the gleam of tears down his face.

As she came to his side, his hands shifted to take her into his arms – both Rhaenyra and Ser Leanor exchanged solemn looks before they gazed at the three children before them.

Ser Leanor spoke lowly, standing as he joined Rhaenyra’s side. “Earlier this afternoon, we had received a letter from Pent- “

Visenya stepped forward, her eyes beaming, “Pentos? Daemon?”

Suddenly a soft sob came from Ser Leanor, Jace and Luke gazing worryingly as they watched their ‘father’ turn, his hand upon his forehead as he attempted to compose himself. Rhaenyra sighed, gently placing her hand on his forearm as she spoke.  

“Yes, Visenya, it was from Daemon… he has informed us of recent events which, we thought it best to let you know of. Of course, Visenya, I know this is not the most opportune moment and I do promise once we return we shall find the time to properly celebrate your name day.” Rhaneyra spoke softly, she furrowed her brow in sympathy as she gazed at her daughter.

Jace shook his head, stepping forward in curiosity, “Return? From where?”

“Driftmark… your, Aunt Lady Laena she…” The shaking voice of Ser Leanor once again found little ability to continue speaking before his tears overcame him.

Princess Rhaneyra gave Ser Leanor a grimace gesturing for him to sit down once more, after he did so, she turned to Visenya and her brother’s, her voice that same delicate tone. “She unexpectedly went into labour with her child, to which she… she did not survive. We must travel to Driftmark on the morrow for her funeral is to be within the next few days, I believe.”

The young Princess stepped back, the words of her mother almost echoing in the stoney halls of Dragonstone. Is that why Daemon never sent a raven? What of her half-sisters… shall they come to live upon Dragonstone now? Her thoughts raced right as she looked to her brother’s both whose eyes weakened in sorrow. Visenya clasped the hand of her younger brother Lucerys, and the distress of Ser Leanor almost didn’t register in Visenya’s mind as his shattering sobs filled the space around them.

●

Lady Laena’s funeral was met with the news of the suspicious death of Ser Harwin Strong a few hours prior, it took everything in her to not take Jace in her arms, to follow up upon the grief in his eyes as he tried to stifle it down.

Visenya sat upon her assigned chamber in Castle Driftmark, wiping the rogue tears that rolled down her cheek. It was a solemn day, everything seemed glazed in a strange gloom that seemed particularly hard to shake, for it was the suspicious death of Ser Strong which marked the day even more grim. Some had said mayhap it was the curse of Harrenhal, even the sound of that name sent fine chills down Visenya’s spine, she had heard of horrid stories of its curse, the gruesome deaths, wailing wind and twisted visions that send men to madness.

As the Princess looked up, her eyes caught the wide window that overlooked Blackwater Bay, the way the dark water curled and wiped against the rocks seemed to echo the coiling of the grey clouds that wept above. The inner walls of castle Driftmark were a particularly dreary place on days such as this, the dark salt stained walls seemed to weep as the air filled with a particular damp smell which was impossible to shake. It was completely unlike the warmth of Dragonstone, and Visenya longed for the warm air of home that left her skin smelling of dragonfire. Instead, she felt… itchy and cold.

She looked to the skies, noticing the rumbling behind the clouds – one which seemed like that of a Dragon’s and a mournful roar sent a deep vibration through her chest as the dark, looming mass of what could only be Laena’s dragon, Vhagar soared the sky. Visenya’s eyes watered once more at Vhagar’s lament, her heart aching at the thought of how the dragon must ache for her rider. The Princess had always had a soft spot for the large beast, she was terribly old; and Visenya couldn’t help but to think just how strange it must be to live to see eras come and go. How awful it must feel to see the deaths of her many riders over the centuries and feel the loss of a time which shall never return. She had known of the bond between her great ancestor, to whom she was named after; Queen Visenya Targaryen and Vhagar – marvelling at the thought it was indeed Queen Visenya herself, who was the very first to ride upon the back of mighty beast.

It was not just Vhagar’s sorrow which made the Princess weep softly, but also the thought of Lady Laena – her once beautiful face now nothing more than a charred corpse, alongside the babe that she carried within. Visenya looked up to the curdling grey clouds, noticing how they reminded her of Laena’s coiled silvery locks – how, whether it be a brother or sister, Visenya thought of the silvery curls which would amass upon the babe’s head if it had been born. The sentiment rattled the young Princess, to die such a death, screaming and grieving all at once. To know feel the crossover, the toll of death birthing new life oft takes upon a woman. It made her heart thump, the very thought of Laena’s cries and screams, how surreal it would have been… how scared she likely was.

The gentle waft of dark mead and ash filled Visenya’s senses as a warm hand gripped her shoulder, “Tala…” Daughter

The Princess eyes widened, she wiped around and the sight before her did little to prevent more tears from falling, the grim face of her father, Prince Daemon looked down upon her and before Visenya said another word she threw her arms around him, letting the warmth of his embrace engulf her as she wept softly, “Kepa..” Father

He cupped her face, bringing her eyes to meet his as the Princess babbled, “I was so worried, you never sent a Raven…I…” Visenya shook her head, wiping her tears.

A noticeable silence filled the space, Daemon’s eyes narrowed down before he pulled away, his hand on his head before he paused to speak again.  “You know why I couldn’t.”

The princess’s eyes pleaded; she stepped forward wishing he would take her in her arms once more, “I know… but I… I just wished you’d have sent one?”

The Rogue Prince scoffed, shaking his head incredulously as his daughter’s words only managed to strike him in a selfish manner, “You are not a little girl, Visenya! The time has long since passed for such childish needs of a fucking gift for your name day.”

“You think I am upset because you bare no gift? No- “Visenya protested.

Daemon found himself beyond angry, though he was not sure if it was truly his daughter whom he felt it towards – mayhap it was everything. Everything he desired taken so brutally from him or destroyed. He couldn’t help but feel a flicker of blame for Laena, how he had refused her wished to return to Driftmark before the birth, how he had hardly even been a husband to her at all. What right did he have to grief when he had all but been the man to occasionally warm her bed, rather than the father to her children. The guilt crushed him, he had spent his many years longing for Rhaenyra, longing to see Visenya – when his true wife, his legitimate daughters stood before him, awaiting for the day when he could finally show affection.

Daemons voice was hoarse, tormented as he snapped, “The matter of what happened to your sister’s mother, had to take priority. I had little mind of celebration and apologise if such a thing discomforted you, but it is well time you learn that there shall be times when I cannot send for you, times when I must attend to greater fucking matters!”

Her heart all but dropped upon hearing her father’s words, was that all she was? A mere afterthought to more important matters? The daughter he made and then abandoned, while he lived lavishly in Pentos. While he spoiled Baela and Rhaena with attention for all these years and Visenya wait with bated breath for a fucking raven only on her name day? Visenya stepped forward, furious now as she hollered, “Greater matters than your own daug-“

The Princess was once again cut off by his warm hand over her mouth, he gripped her harshly, lowering his head to whisper. “Walls have ears.” Daemon paused, his tone softening as he released her from his grasp, “Baela and Rhaena are also my daughters.” His eyes softened as he looked upon Visenya, how she had grown so much, how every time his eyes caught a glimpse of her, it was like meeting a new person.

Prince Daemon looked down, unwilling to shed any tears despite them nagging at his eyes. The pain of seeing his daughter grow, the years of her childhood spent without him – without her own father guiding her, basking in her first moments. He hadn’t been there when she first claimed Silverwing, he had hardly been there for any of her life at all.

A solemn silence filled the space, Visenya stood with her hands clutching each other, more tears falling as she looked up at him, her eyes still pleading for him to look up at her, to hold her as he did once or twice in the Dragonpits, all those years ago. She hated seeing how he truly had started to look older, his face slightly more wrinkled with age now. Visenya couldn’t help but to fear, one day she’d look at her father and see an old man – and then, that would be it.

The princess stepped forward once more, her voice desperately gentle, weak almost as she spoke, “You’ve not sent word in so long… and I… Nyke ēdan missed ao, kepa.” I had missed you, father. The final words sounding as though they came from the small girl she once was, rather than the bourgeoning young woman her mother said she would soon become.

Daemon let her words hang for a moment before he looked up, his own eyes pleading with her now as he gazed upon his daughter with a guilty affection that even as the Rogue Prince, he still felt frightened by. Her words made his belly coil in sorrow, coil with a love that warmed every bone in his body, his hand extended out, reaching to capture her small one in his as he spoke, his voice nothing more than a whisper, “I know, zaldrītsos.” little dragon.

○ v ○

[angryschnauzer]

Stuck - Part 2

Summary: Following the development in your relationship from maid x client, you visit Agent Walker on his invitation, with no false pretences of what is expected

Pairing: August Walker x Female Maid Reader (no race or size described) Fandom; Henry Cavill, Mission Impossible: Fallout.

Warnings; NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, sex toys, dildo’s, butt plugs, masturbation, voyeurism, anal fingering, anal sex, creampie, Sugar Daddy relationship, (no use of ‘Daddy’ as a petname) 

I do not operate a tag list, however please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications. That way you’ll get an alert every time i post anything. Part 1 can be found HERE, Masterlist can be found on AO3 link HERE All typos are allowed to run wild and free

Stuck - Part 2

Ringing the doorbell you heard footsteps this time, and were able to prepare yourself for Mr Walker opening the door - or so you thought. When the door swung open you could not have prepared yourself for the sight of him in smart black pants and a crisp grey button down shirt, the top couple of buttons opened to reveal a teasing glimpse of chest hair, his tie hanging loose and unfastened around his neck. He looked you up and down, taking in how your breasts were pushed a little higher, your ass a little rounder from the way the heels made you stand, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he stepped to one side;

“Please, do come in”

As you stepped past him you caught a waft of his aftershave, dark and musky, a hint of sandalwood and rosemary. You stood fidgeting, glancing around the apartment and seeing that it was sparkling clean, telling you that you’d be earning your money a different way today. You didn’t mind, not in the slightest. The $2000 tip he’d given you on your last visit had paid your credit card bill and you’d been able to make your rent on time for the first time in months. 

When the parcel had arrived on your doorstep a week ago with a note from Mr Walker you’d quickly glanced around the hallway, no courier or delivery guy having been seen, almost nervous to find what was inside. When you had opened the parcel it had felt like christmas morning, so many little treats all individually wrapped, a note from the high end lingerie store saying that they hoped you enjoyed the parcel. That night you’d tried on the exquisite underwear set, marvelling how the bra gave you the most amazing cleavage, the half cups ending just at the right place for your nipples to peek over the top of the lace. The panties had looked innocent enough from the front, but at the back it was a series of elastic straps that caged in your ass, the crotch non-existent and it gave you no false pretenses about what they were intended for. Having unpacked all the other treats - lipstick, perfume, bath bombs and scented skin oil, your favourite chocolates - you came upon one final gift and an envelope. Opening the parcel first you let out a small squeak when you saw the heart shaped jewel shine in the light from your lamp, the heavy metal of the plug smooth and cool in the palm of your hand. Grabbing the envelope you opened it, your hands shaking;

“Enjoy your gifts. I’ll make a booking soon. August x”

Back in MR Walker’s apartment you were distracted as he stood behind you, the only tell that he was there was the sudden feel of body heat warming your back even though he wasn’t touching you. When he finally spoke his voice was low and quiet;

“You can back out now and there will be no hard feelings. But if you want to stay and continue i can guarantee it will be worth your while in so many ways. So, what will it be?”

You could feel your hands shaking with nerves, hell, even excitement. Taking a deep breath you slid one foot back and moved until your ass was pressing against Mr Walkers crotch;

“I’d like to stay please. I very much enjoyed the gifts, Sir”

“Good girl”

He wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you flush with his chest as his lips found your neck, working his tongue and teeth over your jugular as his hands gripped at your hips before moving to the zipper on the back of your dress. The metallic rasp of it being pulled down filled the hallway, the cool air hitting your heated skin soon soothed as he trailed his fingertips down the exposed deep v of skin. Pushing the formal maid’s dress down your shoulders you let it fall to the floor, the deep groan of appreciation that rumbled up through his throat making your body tingle with excitement.

“You look fantastic, i made the right choice with this set” he took hold of your asscheek; “Are you wearing all of it?”

Bending a little at the waist you pushed your ass out and felt as he pushed his hand between your legs, first touching your pussy before moving back and pressing against the jewel of the plug;

“Hmmmn very good. My good girl follows instructions well. Now put your hands on the wall and stick your ass out a little more”

“Yes Sir”

Stepping out of your dress you turned and laid your palms flat on the board and batten walls, this time the sound of a smaller zipper filling the silence before your legs were kicked apart and a hand pressed against the small of your back. Bending your spine you pushed your ass out, gasping as you felt the thick blunt tip of his cock nudging against your swollen petals, searching, seeking out its destination before pushing in fully in one firm thrust.

“Fuck. Your pussy is as tight as i remembered” he muttered behind you, yet you were unable to respond, your body tensing around the deep penetration that felt so good. You felt him spread his legs and set off at a brutal pace, fucking into you from behind, with each thrust his pelvis would push the plug into your ass stimulating you even more. 

There were no words, just grunts and moans, and you could feel your legs starting to shake as an orgasm approached rapidly;

“I’m coming…”

“Not yet you aren’t… you’ll come when i tell you to come”

“”Yes… Sir…”

Gritting your teeth you tried to will the building orgasm to subside, but the way you were being fucked made it hard. Your left leg started to shake violently as you tried to hold back, Mr Walker ramming into you from behind before he finally grunted;

“Cum for me now”

You didn’t think you could orgasm on demand, but as you relaxed just the tiniest amount the levy broke and you came around his cock. That in turn set his orgasm off, and you were pushed against the wall as he came deep inside you, thrusting harshly into you as you felt him spasm deep within your walls.

When he pulled out you winced, quickly closing your legs as you felt his seed already start to drip out of you, and as he tucked himself back into his dress pants he winked;

“Good girl. Keep me inside” he reached for your hand; “Now come, a glass of champagne”

He led you to the large lounge, the pristine white leather couches and the soft net curtains giving the room a bright yet muted appearance. One wall was completely made up of floor to ceiling mirrors, and there were just a few houseplants scattered around the place to break up the stark white of the room.

“Sit” he called out from the kitchen before you heard the quiet pop of the cork.

“But… i’ll make a mess of your leather…” you called back, only to hear his voice as he approached holding two glasses of the golden frizzante.

“Doesn’t matter. For what i have planned you’ll be making even more of a mess than just a smear of my cum”

He handed you the glass and gently tapped his own against it before raising it to his lips, you followed and hummed as the bubbles smoothed over your tongue. He cocked his head and smiled, yet it felt like the look a viper would give its prey before it struck;

“Now, i said sit”

You did as he instructed, perching your ass on the edge of the couch before remembering the plug and wincing as you moved back slightly so you could sit on the whole of your buttocks to relieve some of the pressure in your ass.

Mr Walker hadn’t moved, and you were now eye level with his crotch, the outline of his cock clear to see as the fine fabric clung to him. Licking your lips you quickly sipped at your glass again before he tucked a finger beneath your chin to pull your gaze up to his face;

“Don’t worry, you’ll be getting another load soon… i have something else planned first… tell me a little about yourself…”

He stepped away and you watched him as he moved around the room, picking up a gift box and setting it down on the low table in front of you just out of reach, but saying nothing until he sat on the couch opposite you;

“I asked you to tell me about yourself…”

Stumbling on your words you tried to explain a little, unsure if he wanted a professional or a personal explanation, your arrangement seemingly a mixture of the two already. He sat with one leg hooked at an angle over the other knee, quietly sipping his champagne, his gaze intense as it never left you once. Finally he cleared his throat;

“Would you like to open your gift?”

Reaching to set your glass down, you took the box and rested it on your knees, pulling off the ribbon and lifting the lid, the gasp that fell from your lips immediately followed by a grin and somewhat unladylike snort of laughter, before focusing back on what was contained;

“Oh my god…”

Glancing up you saw Mr Walker eyeing you suspiciously, before you wrapped your hand around the contents and pulled it from the packaging, laying it across both of your palms as you gazed down at the heavy rubber dildo. It was so detailed, every vein and ridge perfectly formed, before a thought suddenly struck you and your eyes went wide;

“Is this… is this you?”

“I had it cast just for you” he settled both feet flat on the floor and you watched as he settled comfortably, his thighs wide apart; “Why don’t you give it a test run? Show me how well you take it?”

For a moment you simply held it, wide eyed at the thought of performing such an intimate act, but shook that thought from your mind as you settled back against the cushions, hooking both feet onto the edge of the low glass table in front of you, your heels hanging over the edge as you parted your thighs and trailed a hand down to your core, rubbing against the wet lace that was soaked from Mr Walker fucking you just a few minutes before. Lifting the dildo you considered it for a moment before spitting on it, bringing your soaked hand up and working the combined wetness over the thickness, pulling your panties to one side and resting the wide tip at your entrance. 

Looking up you maintained eye contact as you carefully pressed the first couple of inches in and breached your tight entrance, your jaw falling slack as you felt the familiar yet different stretch. You carefully worked the rubber phallus back and forth, pushing a little more each time, helping to lubricate the shaft with your own essence as it filled you. When it was inserted enough you grasped the heavy ballsack, your other hand teasing your nipples as they peeked over the lace of your bra, trailing it down to your panties to rub at your engorged clit. 

Working your body in the same way you had done so many times in private, thinking of Agent August Walker - even before your first sexual encounter with him - it was now surreal as you watched him palming himself through his clothing as you fucked yourself with the rubber imitation of him.

You could feel yourself getting close, the air in the room thick with lust as the only sounds were heavy breathing and the wet sounds coming from between your legs, when he called out;

“Stop”

With a whine you did. Pausing, waiting for his instruction;

“Take it out and stand”

The obscene sucking squelch as you removed the dildo from your aching core filled the room, before you set it down on the box and stood on shaky legs.

“Come here”

Your legs felt like jelly, crossing the room and standing before him, watching as he parted his legs further to make room for you;

“What would you like me to do Sir?”

“On your knees”

Settling obediently between his thick thighs, you were grateful for the extra long pile rugs beneath you cushioning your knees, resting your hands cautiously on his muscled thighs and looking up at him with wide eyes as he spoke;

“Lets see how good that mouth of yours is?”

Watching as he unzipped himself, at this angle his dick looked even bigger and more imposing than the feeling of it inside you. Shuffling closer you wrapped your hands carefully around the hot shaft, admiring how he was already rock hard and weeping with need. Leaning in you lapped at the clear bead that had pooled at the tip, tasting both him and yourself on his skin. Licking your lips to lubricate them you took a deep breath and descended on him, his girth stretching your lips almost painfully, working your tongue over the silken flesh. He gently smoothed his thumb over your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t even realised you had shed;

“Doing so well Princess… your mouth is as good as your cunt is…” his other hand wrapped in your hair and he started to control your actions, his hips rising in sharp movements as he started to fuck your face. He maintained eye contact as he held your head, moving you how he wanted;

“Cry those tears for me, i know they’re not tears of pain or discomfort… its just overwhelming, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t answer, your mouth and throat too busy being occupied by his heavy flesh, but you nodded and let out a tiny grunt; it felt so good, so depraved to be used like this, and as his thrusts got faster you prepared yourself for what was to come next… but instead at the last moment he pulled you off of him.

Gasping for breath you were wide eyed, no doubt your makeup ruined but in the quiet of his apartment you watched him as he gritted his teeth and regained his composure. Finally he spoke;

“Turn around and sit on my lap… legs together and bounce on my dick”

You stood and turned, backing up and bending over before he pressed a hot palm to your naked thigh;

“Stop. Bend over. Let me look at that silken purse”

Knees together you did as he asked, letting out a gasp as he ran a calloused thumb over the pouting lips of your sex, already swollen from the events that had led to that very moment, and as he teased out your nectar he smeared it on your skin.

“Very nice, holding treasures within…”

Dipping his thumb inside he drew it out and hummed in appreciation at seeing his cum mixed with your own on it, before tugging at the jewel of your plug and smearing his thumb under the rim to your sensitive opening.

“Hmmmn, another treasure waiting to be pillaged… but first…”

He took hold of your hip, pulling you back as he held his dick and lined you up with it, and at that hot searing touch of flesh you gasped. You were more than ready for him, craving his touch, your body accepting him as you stopped holding back and allowed gravity to take over until you were sat flush on his lap, speared deep and aching with need.

His warm hands smoothed over the soft globes of your ass before pushing against you back;

“Bounce for me Princess”

You did as he asked, starting off slow, the warmth of his palm against your back spurring you on as you started to move faster, your pussy dripping around him and with each wet slap of your bodies you knew you’d coated his balls and taint with your juices. On one downward fall you landed hard, groaning as you ground your ass against him and his hands suddenly clamped down on your hips to keep you flush with him;

“Stay”

You felt the tug on the plug in your ass, moaning as you felt it being pulled gently but persistently, moaning as you stretched at the fullest part before the somewhat disappointing relief as it was removed completely. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him set it down carefully on the small table to the side, and grab a small bottle of lube that had been sitting there behind a plant pot. You braced yourself for the inevitable.

---

August.

He’d paced the hallways of his apartment from the moment his hidden camera’s had picked up that you’d left your building; checking traffic cam’s and building surveillance to track your progress. He kept telling himself he shouldn’t be nervous; he was in charge and you were simply a plaything… and yet when he’d heard the doorbell ring his stomach had done a little flip and he’d had to take a few seconds to calm his racing heart.

What had followed had been that of his wildest dreams; a woman pliable and willing, and yet still independent with her own thoughts. He’d had women simp over him and he’d had to guide them at every step, weak wristed and prudish with their own sexual desires… but with you… you were different.

For the time that had followed since you’d walked through his door he had told himself he couldn’t get too attached, this was a sexual relationship, one that suited his needs and that he controlled, but with every passing minute he could feel himself falling deeper and deeper.

And now here you were, sat on his lap and he was balls deep inside you, feeling your cunt tremble around his achingly hard dick, and at the sight of your tight back door winking as he’d removed the plug he’d almost blown his load right there and then. 

Carefully pouring the thick lube on the crease of your ass he watched for a moment as it slowly ran down, before catching it with his thumb and massaging against your asshole, watching as the stretched muscle accepted him so eagerly. He worked the muscle open, moving from his thumb to two fingers then three, your moans as you accepted him causing him to grit his teeth so not to blow his load right there and then in your unprotected cunt. And he knew you were still unprotected, he’d kept track of your appointments and knew you hadn’t updated your birth control, it had been a mere three weeks since your last visit, and even if you hadn’t figured it out he sure had.

He could feel that you were ready, lifting you up before positioning himself at your prepared hole;

“Just relax Princess, i know you can do it” 

He spoke softly, quietly… reassuring you as he watched you slowly stretching around him, and that first inch as he slipped inside you it took all his control not to slam deep inside your guts. 

With one hand under your buttcheek he held you up as he could feel your body stretching, growing accustomed to his girth inside you, and as you started to relax he would slip inside a little further.

He was basking in the moment, the lewd and salacious nature of something he had done many times before, yet this time it felt different; the connection was there this time. As his mind reeled from the realisation that this time he was going to have to take into account his own feelings, you turned and grinned at him, and with a sly smirk sank down until you were fully seated with his dick filling your ass;

“OH FUCK…” August cursed, his hands flying to your hips and his head rolling back to rest on the couch as he fought not to blow his load right there and then in the dark recesses of your ass.

Letting out another string of curses, he gritted his teeth and let out a low growl, his eyes dark with desire as he watched you start to bounce up and down on him, his gaze drawn to where your tight hole was stretched so much to accommodate his thick girth. He knew that if you kept bouncing like that he’d cum in seconds, and it was too good to let his body deceive him. Wrapping his arms around your torso he pulled you back;

“Shhhh… slow down Princess…”

-

You whimpered as he laid you against his chest, his dick slipping out of your ass a little before he bucked his hips and pushed slowly back into you. With one arm wrapped around your torso he trailed the other down your stomach before he sought out your sensitive pearl, rubbing at your clit;

“August…” you whined, feeling the intense pleasure shoot through your body; “I’m gonna cum”

“Don’t… not yet…” he gasped out; “Please… wait…”

“I can’t…”

Your back arched and you felt your mind leave your body for a split second, vaguely aware of the rumble in Mr Walkers chest as your orgasm set off his own, filling your ass with thick ropes of his seed as you lay prone on his chest.

Finally through bliss hazed eyes you turned to look at him, surprised when his lips met yours for a soft kiss. His lips were delicate and you could taste a hint of bourbon lingering on his tongue that the champagne couldn’t mask, the moment only broken by the feel of his softening shaft slipping from your body with a rather graphic squelch.

Now that your bodies were no longer connected he shifted you into his arms as he cradled you in his lap, one strong arm holding you as the other traced patterns over your skin with sensitive fingertips. You watched as he seemingly memorised the plains and curves of your body by feel alone, before he finally spoke;

“Let me run you a bath”

-

August

He’d carried you to his bathroom, running a deep warm bath as he’d helped you undress, rubbing the balls of your feet and you sighed as the pressure of the day seemed to slip from your mind. After helping you into the bath he’d massaged your shoulders as you’d soaked in the tub, before taking a soft natural sponge and gently washed you. 

When the water had started to cool he’d helped you out and gazed as the water droplets had run down your skin, reminding him of a maiden emerging from the sea on a sun kissed island. Wrapping you in an oversized fluffy robe he smiled;

“I’ve set some clothing out for you on my bed, i’ll be right out once i’ve showered”

You nodded and quietly thanked him, and he was finally alone with his thoughts as he quickly stripped and stepped into the large shower enclosure. The water was cold as it shot out of the jets, too impatient to let it warm up as he quickly rinsed the residue of his efforts from his body, his mind pensive as he wondered how he would broach the proposal he had for you. Quickly finishing up he stepped out and roughly dried himself, wrapping a towel around his waist before venturing into his bedroom, smiling to himself as he saw you preening in the mirror;

“Looks good on you”

You turned and smiled at his words and he could have sworn he felt his heart swell just a little more at the look on your face, watching as you bounced across the room and planted a kiss to his lips;

“Thank you…” 

He watched as you smoothed a hand over your breasts and down your hips, the expensive loungewear far overpriced but the quality shone through as it clung to your curves. Knowing you were naked beneath it had arousal swelling his length again, but he gritted his teeth to will it away, at least for a while;

“Looks beautiful on you Princess”

-

Searching through the coffee station in August’s kitchen you found a box of mixed herbals teas, and once you’d figured out his over engineered kettle it was soon warming up to get to a steady boil. Looking around the kitchen you spied the half drunk bottle on the counter, surprised when it stated it was zero alcohol when you felt a pair of warm arms wrap around your waist and a mustachioed mouth trace kissed up your neck;

“There’s still champagne…” 

His deep voice resonated through your spine, and you slowly spun in his arms before you wrapped yours around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his lips;

“I need something to soothe my throat after all the screaming you made me do”

“Fair enough” he said with a smile, giving your ass a squeeze; “Go take a seat, i’ll bring it over to you”

A few minutes later he set a steaming mug down in front of you, sitting beside you as he cleared his throat;

“I have a proposition for you…”

Blowing on the hot tea you raised an eyebrow as he continued;

“I’d like to keep you”

“Keep me?”

He shifted on his seat;

“I mean… come to an arrangement… an exclusive arrangement”

“So, like a sugar Daddy thing?” you asked

“Yes, as in a kept-woman”

You paused for a moment, considering what he was telling you before gently setting down your tea;

“I like the sound of this, but i want you to be specific with what you mean, what will be provided, and what any repercussions are”

Over the next fifteen minutes he calmly explained that you could give up your other maid jobs, he would pay your rent and expenses, and if you desired so could follow your passion for the arts. He would not expect you to be a live in whore-come-maid, but made it clear he would like a sexual relationship, but only on your terms and with your full consent at every instance.

“How do you feel about that?” he asked as he finally finished detailing what seemed like the dream arrangement.

You smiled at him as you shifted on the seat, straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his shoulders;

“I think i feel pretty good about it”

Your lips met and the kiss was deep and passionate, bodies entwined and arousal growing when suddenly a loud ringing came from the table, August’s phone furiously vibrating against the glass.

“Fuck… Sorry, i need to get that”

August quickly lifted and set you down on the couch as he stood and answered the phone, listening intently before ending the call with a curt confirmation. Crossing the room he knelt at the side of the couch;

“I’m so sorry, i’ve got to go… my work…”

“I get it” you interrupted; “I know your line of work means sudden assignments”

“I’ve got to be at the pentagon in an hour, but your place is on the way so i can drop you home, this isn’t how i wanted today to end, but its the job…”

“I understand”

-

Twenty minutes later you were standing on the sidewalk outside your building, watching as August’s plain black Audi disappeared into traffic, wanting to wave but he’d said not to. Your phone chimed and your eyes went wide when you saw the ‘tip’ he’d given you, more than three months rent and a promise to call when he was off mission. You had never imagined you’d be in this situation, but you weren’t going to pass up the opportunity.

What you didn’t see was the person watching you from the shadows, already knowing you were their target, the perfect leverage.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Remember, Don't You Miss Us?

Prompt: hey, if you're taking requests for Sanders sides, can I request some angsty human au! familial sides? patton/janus as parents that get/have gotten divorced and (some of) the others move between houses or smth?? idk do what you want as long as its angsty with a happy ending

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: divorced moceit at the start, they fix it, other than that you good

Pairings: parental moceit, errybody else is the kids

Word Count: 3738

The void never used to be as obvious.

Patton and Janus got divorced, their children split between the two houses. They manage to keep up appearances, but the emptiness never really goes away.

The kids decide to do something about it.

The void never used to be as obvious.

There were times when Patton would come downstairs, expecting to see at least someone else awake, perhaps Logan in the corner chair, curled around a mug of coffee and staring out the window, perhaps Roman at the table with his notebook out and his pen flying, or perhaps Virgil, just rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he tried to figure out what to do next. Remus wasn’t an early riser, but perhaps—on very rare occasions—there he would be, sprawled across the floor, playing with his toys.

But now there’s no one to make the coffee for Logan, no one to encourage Roman to write down his ideas, no one to chuckle softly at bleary little Virgil. No one to halfheartedly scold Remus for leaving his toys all over the floor.

Patton still goes to the coffee pot and turns it on, even if there are buttons on the top he doesn’t dare to touch. Logan asked him once why he refuses to change the settings, even if he doesn’t like the kind of coffee it makes. His hands had shaken too much to answer.

He still goes through all the motions of making breakfast, even if the sudden tug in his chest at the worry they won’t have enough eggs goes limp as he realizes there are only three of them in the house now. Roman asked him once why he was staring at the carton of eggs lying there on the counter. He’d shaken his head and said he was counting.

He still hesitates at the door too long when it’s time to take his kiddos to school, expecting a green blur to tug a blob of purple down the stairs so fast he worries they’re going to hurt themselves. Both Roman and Logan look at him confused when he wants to wait a little longer before taking them out to the car.

But mostly…

Mostly he misses the flash of yellow in the corner of his eye. He could never quite pull off the color, something about the way his undertones refused to cooperate or…something like that. His own wardrobe looks…smaller now, simpler. He never used to blend into the walls this much.

Mostly he misses the low voice coming from the other room, up the stairs, just over his shoulder. His own voice is too high, too bubbly to be properly sarcastic and the absence of that voice twisting words around and around and around. Or when it would soften, and oh how much he could drown in the softness.

Mostly he misses the gloved hands on his shoulder, the small of his back, around his waist, on his hips, cupping the nape of his neck. Patton hugs his kiddos all the time, but there was something about the drag of gloves against his clothes that made him tighten his hugs.

Mostly he misses waking up to someone else warm on cold nights.

The bed feels so much bigger.

No.

No, don’t go down that road, it only leads to crying and Roman and Logan trying frantically to fix it.

They couldn’t.

It wasn’t their fault, they’re kids. They didn’t deserve to have to fix these things, these were an adult’s responsibility, these were problems they wouldn’t know how to solve. It wasn’t their fault that Patton never learned when to stop pushing. It wasn’t their fault that Patton could never figure out where the lines were drawn. It wasn’t their fault that Patton could never stop crying, making it all about himself, never wanting to listen.

Patton scrubs a hand under his nose before it can start to drip.

No. No, it wasn’t their fault, it was—it is his.

It’s his fault they can’t see their brothers anymore, not like they used to.

It’s his fault their Papa went away.

It’s his fault that he couldn’t figure out how to love Janus.

But goodness, does he miss him.

———————————————

The room’s never felt this small before.

There were times when Janus would open the door and expect someone, anyone, to barrel into him before he could step over the threshold and words would tumble out, perhaps a new idea Remus had, perhaps something Virgil was worried about, perhaps Logan with a slew of new questions for him, or perhaps—if he was coming home on a night that Roman didn’t have an after-school club—it would be Roman, wrapping his arms tightly around Janus and refusing to let him go.

But now there’s no one to keep Remus supplied with new sketchbook paper, no one to sit quietly and talk through Virgil’s fears with him, no one to go on Wikipedia odysseys with Logan, and no one to beam at Roman.

Janus still walks to the bookshelf and runs his hand along the spine of the books, searching, searching for something to read that he hasn’t read in a while, and unbidden his mind will go directly to what puns he could make from the titles. Remus had looked up at him once as a chuckle forced its way out through his lips and asked him what was so funny. Janus had shaken his head and said something had just crossed his mind.

He still walks into a room and instinctively picks up a pen to toss into the corner, expecting a soft ‘thank you’ or an ‘ow!’ from the chair or the couch or the desk. Virgil had stared at him one time when he’d walked into the room and without thinking, grabbed a pen from the pen pot and chucked it across the room, eyes wide, wondering what was happening. Janus had dropped to the ground and done his very best to comfort the poor dear, saying that no, he wasn’t angry, he did that from a habit, it’s alright, it’s alright…

He still has the urge to buy another beanbag chair, even though the one they have right now fits the three of them perfectly, unable to get the worry of making the twins share for longer than absolutely necessary out of his head. Virgil and Remus had shrugged and said they’d be fine with having their own beanbag chairs, but they look too small all alone in the sea of fabric and small plastic balls. He’d shaken his head and said he prefers seeing them all together.

But mostly…

Mostly he misses the bright, bubbly laughter that would fill the house to bursting, drawing a smile to his lips at how unabashedly happy it was. The siren song would lure him from every corner of the house, even if he were knee-deep in work, just to see what made its owner so deliriously happy.

Mostly he misses the easy words, the sweet nothings, the effortless comfort. He’s a little too rough, too guarded, too intimidating to sound as gentle and kind and reassuring, he can’t be the softer kind of support that his sweeties need sometimes. That loss, the fumbling of his tongue, always makes those sobs sound so much louder.

Mostly he misses the shameless questions. How is he doing today, what can we do to help, you know we love you, right? Such selfless care, emanating from everywhere, unconditional support, that promise, he doesn’t know how anyone could do that. For someone for whom love still fit clumsily on his tongue, he was in danger of dying of thirst after years of feeling like he could drown in it.

Mostly he misses turning around and not seeing an empty space next to him.

Don’t start.

Not again.

You don’t deserve to miss something when you threw it away without caring.

This road only leads to silences, silences Remus tries to fill by being too big, too loud, too much, silences Virgil detests and hides away, waits out, curling around his security stuffie until feels it’s safe to come out again.

It won’t be.

It’s not their fault, they’re kids. They shouldn’t be trained to read every single emotional cue to make sure their worlds won’t be upended again, they shouldn’t have to try and take of their parent, they shouldn’t be worrying about what’s going on with a problem they can’t fix. It isn’t their fault that Janus never learned how to let himself be vulnerable. It isn’t their fault that he never learned how to bite back some of his harsher remarks. It isn’t their fault that Janus could never stop trying to defend himself from someone who would never hurt him, never wanting to listen.

Janus takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

It’s his fault. Of course, it’s his fault.

It’s his fault Remus still looks around for his twin in the mornings.

It’s his fault that the brothers will grow up divided.

It’s his fault that Dad lives separately from them now.

But damn, he misses Patton so much.

———————————————

Logan: So we’re in agreement, this happens this Friday.

emo-nightmare: no need for all the grammar there L

Princey: Yes! This Friday™! It will be glorious and victorious!

living nightmare: we all will shout uproarious?

emo-nightmare: cause life is so euphorious

Logan: That’s not a word, Virgil.

emo-nightmare: if you wanna write to disney and tell em theyre using made up words i can think of better places for u to start

Princey: no virge don’t he’ll actually do it

Logan: Putting that aside, we agree that we’re doing this this Friday, yes?

Princey: Yep. Dad thinks we’re gonna go to the park to hang out after school and he’s meeting us there.

emo-nightmare: papa’s got a photoshoot with that new brand and rem and i suggested the park at 530

living nightmare: I got the fake blood and mannequin heads

Princey: REMSU WHAT THE FUKC

emo-nightmare: wow how is L letting yo make that many typos

Princey: fuck off V

living nightmare: how is Dad letting you get away with swearing that much

Princey: I am disowning you

living nightmare: on what grounds?

Princey: on the grounds that your a douchebag and you swear every two words

emo-nightmare: *you’re are u proud of me L

Logan: Had you not used the ‘u’, I would be

emo-nightmare: smh when will I be enough

Princey: you don’t need to be enough for us to love u now NO MORE SAD TALK IT IS OPERATION GET OUR DADS TO PULL THEIR HEADS OUTTA THEIR ASSES TIME

Logan: Everything is a go?

Princey: Sure is!

emo-nightmare: Roger

living nightmare: so I shouldn’t bring the mannequin heads?

Logan: No.

Princey: NO

emo-nightmare: guess not

living nightmare: :(

———————————————

In the end, it’s surprisingly easy for their kids to do things without them noticing.

Patton doesn’t Roman sneaking a camera into his backpack on the way to school, or the way he nods at Logan as they spilt up upon reaching the gates. He’s too preoccupied with scanning the parking lot, seeing if maybe, just maybe, there’s another familiar car here that he shouldn’t be caught looking at.

He doesn’t notice the way Logan texts him to remind him that they’ll be meeting at the park, across the street from the library, at 5:30 pm sharp, next to the fountain, and says that Patton will be there, not him. He’s too busy remember the last time he was at that fountain.

Janus doesn’t notice the way Remus pouts one more time at Virgil as they get ready to go, sighing and rolling his eyes about how boring the others are getting. He’s too focused on how he still expects to see a different person in the passenger seat as he drops them off a block away from the school.

He doesn’t notice the way Virgil doesn’t ask him to remember that they’re meeting after school in the park so he can help with taking the photos, but tells him, in no uncertain terms, that Janus better be in the park by the fountain at 5:30. He’s…busy remembering why he agreed to have the photoshoot by the fountain in the first place.

“Wait, why don’t you want to do the partner photoshoot?”

Janus sighs, leaning back against the fountain. “Because it has me fake being a couple.”

Patton’s mouth opens and closes and Janus sighs. Patton looks at the ground.

“I don’t believe that kind of bond can be just an arrangement,” he says after a moment, “as if it were a…contract or something. For something that they want but not—not like that.”

The fountain burbles quietly. Janus tips his head back to look at the stars.

“And what do you want?”

Patton turns, straightening as the frustration in his voice drifts away. “What do I want?”

Janus nods.

“What a good question,” he murmurs, looking at him, “what I want…is for you to come closer.”

Janus blinks in shock, his brow furrows just the slightest bit. Patton smiles and beckons.

“Yes,” he encourages when he takes a tentative step, “come closer.”

He stands to his full height as he stops in front of him, still searching his face for a clue as to what is going on. He doesn’t hold his gaze, instead looking at him with such awe that the sweet thing flushes. His hands come up slowly, hovering above his shoulders before carefully, carefully taking hold of his arms.

“This,” he breathes, “is what I want,” he says as his fingers toy with the roughness of his jacket, “this is what I want, what I have always wanted.”

Oh.

Oh.

Janus’s breath catches in his throat but Patton doesn’t stop.

“To have you here in my arms and to know—“ his gaze flashes up to catch Janus’s— “that you feel at home here.”

As his eyes go wide, Patton takes them a step away from the fountain. His gaze searches his face desperately.

“Tell me,” he asks, “do you still feel comfortable here? With me? Is it still home for you?”

It’s too much. The way his gaze threatens to tear his heart from his chest, his words pluck his walls apart, brick by brick, it’s too much. He can be the friend, he can’t—he can’t see Patton like this.

“Please…please…don't turn away from me—look at me.” A hand catches his chin, guiding him back. “Look in my eyes.”

I can’t, he wants to say, it’ll hurt when I have to look away.

“Are you scared?” His face falls. “By what? I won’t hurt you, I’d never hurt you, unless…”

He swallows, and something flickers behind his eyes.

“…you want to go?”

“It’s not that,” he manages, closing his eyes as he shakes his head, “I promise it’s not that.”

“If not, then what?”

“The others—I can’t—“

He doesn’t let him finish, swiftly cutting him off with a shake of his head. “No. No one can tell you that you can’t be here with me. I want you here, as long as you want to be here.”

I can stay? he asks with the furrow between his brows.

You can stay, he replies with the appearance of a smile.

“I know what I want, Janus.” Patton takes the smallest step closer. “Always have. And there was a time when…when you wanted that too.”

Janus chuckles. “You sound ridiculous.”

Patton laughs too. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m happy to be ridiculous if it lets me…”

He trails off and Janus frowns.

“…lets you what?”

“Be yours,” he murmurs as Janus’s heart pounds, “and to hear you be called mine.”

His face contorts as he traces the curve of his cheek again. He follows the trail of warmth, pushing into it with the hesitant desperation of a single trickle of water, halted by a dam in the river.

“You’re still here,” comes the quiet observation, “so clearly you're not afraid…are you?”

“…I don’t know anymore.”

“Then if you didn't trust me…” He swallows. “Then I’d ask you to—to go. Because I don’t want you to be here if you don’t want to be.”

The thought of leaving sends a spike through his ribs, punching a breath out of his lungs. He presses into his hand as much as he dares.

“…but if you do trust me,” he whispers, the fountain still humming behind them, “if you are truly not afraid of my touch as you've shown…close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close them,” he repeats, “…please.”

He does as bid, all but thrumming in his hands. The hand on his cheek trembles for barely a moment, as if its owner is suddenly overcome by the realization that they’re here, before he feels a warmth next to his face and a puff of breath that isn’t his own.

“W-wait!”

The air freezes.

His eyes fly open as he struggles to process what just happened.

Patton. Patton. His Patton. He—he loves him. He invited him here tonight because he loves him. He wants to spend time with him because he loves him.

Gods above, he loves him.

He—gods, he just tried to kiss him because he loves him.

He just tried to kiss him.

And he—

—oh, gods, he told him to wait.

“Patton—“ he tries to find him but it’s too late.

The second he meets his eyes, he’s met with a tidal wave of anguish, slammed quickly behind iron doors that fail to banish the hurt from his expression. It breaks his heart.

“I understand,” he says lowly, going to move away, “I understand—“

“No—please, listen to me, I—“

“You don’t have to say anything,” he says smoothly, his hand already leaving his face, “I understand. That was an abuse of power, it was not my intention to—“

“I didn’t mean it like that, I don’t want you to think that I—“

“The last thing I want is to pressure you into something you don’t want.”

“You don’t know I don’t want it!”

“I do!” His gaze flares sharply with anger, with hurt, seas of pain buried behind smiles and guarded expressions. He takes a deep breath and tries to force it away. “You told me to wait. And, forgive me, but I won’t wait to have my heart be broken all over again.”

“I’m not trying to break your heart—“ he scrabbles frantically for him— “please, just listen—“

“You don’t need to explain yourself, you never have, I understand that you don’t want me like that.” He lets him grab onto him but does not stop turning away. “But if you could give me a moment to collect myself, I—“

“I don’t know how to kiss!”

He freezes. “…what?”

His cheeks burn with the weight of his embarrassment and his unshed tears. “I don’t know how to kiss,” he repeats at a much more reasonable volume. He twists his hands in front of him. “I…you…I’m sorry, fuck, I’m making a mess of this.”

He buries his head in his hands, willing the tears to stay behind his eyes. As he looks up, he knows he’s going to fail as he spots the red-rimmed eyes staring back at him.

“Don’t ever,” he starts, voice wobbling a little, “don’t you ever believe that I don’t love you.”

His breath leaves him in a rush.

“Of course I love you,” he continues, growing stronger when he lets out a whimper and reaches for him, “of course I love you.”

“Then why—“ he grasps his shoulders, tighter than before, “why did you ask me to wait?”

The fountain bubbles and burbles, the soft smell of their drinks mixing with the sweet smell of the water. It’s warm here, in each other’s arms. It feels like home.

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” he confesses softly, “not like…not like that. It scares me.”

Patton shifts, not enough to hurt, just enough to hold Janus closer.

“I don’t know how to speak it.” His eyes fall closed, breathing in the warm smell of safe. “I don’t know what to do with it. And I—“

Patton gives his sides a gentle squeeze.

“…I am terrified of what normally comes after.”

“You don’t have to be,” comes the immediate reassurance, “not here, not with me. I won’t force you to do anything you’re not ready for. I will never ask anything of you that you wouldn’t give. Not until you want to.”

“…and what if I never want to?”

Janus feels his soft smile as he rests his chin on top of his head. “Then we won’t.”

“No?”

“No.” His forehead comes to rest against Janus’s once more. “But kissing doesn’t have to lead to that. It can just be a kiss.”

“It can?”

“Of course.” There’s a pause. “As that is the case…”

His eyes open. Is he…

“…are you asking?”

Patton pulls back just far enough to look him in the eyes.

“May I teach you how to kiss, my love?”

Janus’s breath leaves him in a rush. “Yes.”

They would say that it took a lot of work. And it did; getting back to a place where they could trust each other again, to live together again, was a slow progression. Over a year, at least, but there they were, working together against the problem, not each other.

But really, really it…

Well, Janus turned around, expecting to see Virgil, and saw Patton instead, blinking in confusion.

Patton mumbled something about Roman and Logan saying he should be here, a small smile growing when Janus says that Virgil and Remus did the same.

“…our kids, huh?”

“Our kids.”

Patton cautiously broached the topic of whether he remembered the fountain. Janus had smiled and said that how could he forget?

“…anything else you remember?”

And, well, maybe there was something to be said about the movies that Roman loved so much and everyone else pretended they didn’t.

Because as Janus wraps his hand around Patton’s hoodie and pulls him in, they could swear they could hear cheering and whooping all around them.

In fairness to the kids, they had an excellent reason for why they shouldn’t be grounded for lying about their after-school plans.

General Taglist: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb  @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions

if you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

[imagine-loki]

Everyone's Problem

TITLE: Everyone’s Problem CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: One-shot AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump ORIGINAL IMAGINE: After the Chitauri attack on New York, imagine Loki being sentenced to public service on Earth, specifically in aiding people who got hurt during the attack. His magic has been limited to only be enough to aid keeping Odin’s spell in place so he wouldn’t turn blue. His task is to help people with special needs, to do house chores, help them get around, do their grocery and keep them company while they recover. He is assigned to a girl who ended up blind after one of the Chitauri shot at her. + Imagine HYDRA has been quietly watching Loki living a quiet life on Earth. They decide it’s finally time to bring him into the fold. It doesn’t exactly work out the way they intended. RATING: T

NOTES/WARNING: Hi, y'all! I haven’t written in a fair while, so I did a quick little one-shot with Charlie to get myself back into shape. It’s probably rough, but cut me some slack! If you’re interested in reading other Charlie stories (there’s a bunch!), you can find them on my masterlist here. Language, mentions of violence, attacks and blood, one v angry human, and typos probably.

XX

“Loki, it’s a stomach ache. It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.” Charlie remarked for the fiftieth time that morning as she gently shoved the darling Asgardian she called a boyfriend away from her.

Loki huffed for about the same number time. “According to your interweb healers, it could be an autoimmune disorder, an ulcer or gastric cancer! Forgive me if I’m a little worried about–”

“WebMD is not a qualified physician, Loki Odinson! Settle. The fuck. Down!”

Though her tone was no-nonsense, a smile was tugging at the left corner of her plump lips, evidence that she was not nearly as cross as she portrayed herself to be. When she brushed past him, Loki circled his arms around her waist and tugged her into his body, peppering her face with kisses as she made noises of weak protest. Despite his best advances (and really, he was doing his best work here) her laughter began to trickle down and out of existence.

“Loki, stop,” she said firmly, though he was only half listening.

“Stop!” The Prince froze, holding her loosely in his arms. Her tone wasn’t exactly what had caused her to stop his affectionate attack, though. It was the fact that her whole frame had stilled, and her eyes danced from spot to spot as she concentrated on something. “Can you hear that?”

Loki tilted his head and focused. It took a moment, as out of practice in paranoia as he was, but eventually he heard the very distinct pounding of military-grade rubber on linoleum. “Boots.” Quietly, he righted himself, taking silent, measured steps around the furniture, leading Charlie along with him. “Come on. Bedroom. Quickly.”

No sooner had he gotten those words out, the front door slammed open, leaving Charlie to yelp behind him, a handful of his gray heather t-shirt keeping her anchored to his frame. As Loki saw it, there were three men in the immediate vicinity, waving odd-looking guns that bore the signature of the Chitauri. These were not aliens, though. They were humans, who somehow found a way to retrofit the technology to make more powerful weapons. Many had been foolish enough to try it throughout the years, but only one entity bore the skull and tentacled monster on their insignia.

HYDRA.

This was definitely not a great time to still be without magic.

At once, he tried to school the rhythm of his heart, knowing that Charlie was distinctly in tune with the beat and would worry if it seemed like he was in a panic. With delicate fingers, he stroked at her curls, intending to burrow into his side. “Put your arm around me, tuck your head in, don’t let go. Got it?”

She offered little resistance to the order, humming her consent and wrapping her arm tightly around his torso. The feeling gave him comfort, funnily enough, that he was still the warrior that he had trained to be in his youth, despite having lived like a spoiled house cat for the last couple of years. Where in his youth there was glory and blood to be won, today there was only one objective–keep Charlie safe. Loki moved the second the intruders set their scopes on him. Reaching to his left, he grabbed a handful of kitchen knives which would have to do in this pinch and engaged with a growl.

Charlie whimpered, her legs struggled to keep up with his. She could not anticipate his movement and was mostly just being pushed and pulled around the floor while Loki seemed to be skillfully weaving like he was dancing. It also didn’t help that with every jerk of her body and awkward moment, there was the sickening sound of injury filling her ears. In one very distinct occasion, she could feel the breaking of some sort of bone reverberate through her own hand as Loki delivered a blow. Surely, it would be a lot easier for Loki to fight if he didn’t have to worry about Charlie behind him, and the awkward shuffle he had to do to make sure she was never exposed to any of these intruders took significant mental acuity.

When the three in the room had been dealt with, Loki reached for one of their weapons and Charlie’s mobile. He wasted to no time in moving them back through the bedroom door and locking it. Surely, more men would come.

“Stark!”

“Loki, I am, er, dealing with something right now!” The sound of bullets and flying mortar filled the line along with FRIDAY’s voice in the suit. “I’ll need to call you back!”

“Loki.” Charlie’s voice was small and trembling beside him.

Sighing, Loki wrapped his free arm around her and pulled Charlie into his chest. “I have you, love. Don’t worry.”

His lips pressed into her crown. A little bit of battle had shaken away the rust of his instincts and he could feel the distinctive prickle of enemies closing in. He prayed quietly to any entity that would bear to hear his prayers that they would be left alone. There was more noise beyond the door and Loki was left to coo Charlie into silence. He understood her fear, everything to her was a surprise, doubly so when she was scared and couldn’t bring herself to concentrate on her surroundings.

“I’m going to need you to run to the bathroom and lock yourself there, dove.”

Her hazel eyes zeroed in on him with rage-filled acuity. “You’re insane if you think I’m leaving you.”

“Darling, I cannot protect you if I’m busy minding you from getting hurt!”

Her eyes widened. There was panic in her empty gaze if the fidgeting of her fisted hands was anything to go by and it pained him to think that he could not even offer her an empty promise. “No, please! Please, don’t leave me. I–I can’t deal with it if you’re not with me.”

Loki smiled, sighing at the sweet ache of her words on his heart, and cupped her cheeks, dusting them with speckles of others’ blood. “You are braver than this, Charlotte Camden.” His thumbs brushed over her bronzed cheekbones affectionately. “I know you are. So you go and keep yourself safe and I will–”

The bedroom door rammed open with a deafening crash of cracked wood and rained splinters over the couple.

“Go! Go now!”

Charlie reluctantly disengaged, taking a running leap towards the bathroom door and slammed it behind her. Her ear pressed up against the wood to hear the scuffling. It sounded like a bigger force had come in and Charlie swallowed the panicked yelp threatening to bubble up her throat. Loki was a great fighter, but without his magic there was little for him to do if he was incapacitated. All she could do was hope that he was faster, stronger, better than these intruders.

And that’s when she heard it.

His voice.

Screaming.

Screaming like he did when he had a nightmare.

Screaming like when he remembered the blood and gore that he caused and the damage he had done.

Screaming like when he discovered that the extent of his monstrosity went beyond a lineage he had been lied about and the fickle lies he had been fed by a tyrant.

And then she heard it again.

And again.

And again…

And just when she thought her heart could take no more, she heard a body thud onto the ground and the shuffling stop and she feared the worst.

And then her bracelets activated.

Nearly a year of having the damn things on her and she had forgotten that they served any purpose other than setting off the metal detectors everywhere she went. The nanites built up around her in one swift wave. It took Charlie a moment to orient herself back to the seeing world. The colors on the screen still gave her a headache, her eyes still were unfocused, but that was due to her nearsightedness more than anything else, but it was still usable. And the updates Tony had made to the AI over the years made it easy to navigate through the controls.

She kicked the door open at once. Five figures turned back to her while another three were trying to get Loki’s annoyingly heavy body onto a cot to wheel him away. There was blood on his shirt, wounds seeping the dark treacly liquid from stab wounds used to subdue him, he looked pale, but his chest was still moving air and he was muttering deliriously under his breath.

He was alive.

So every one of them now had to die.

The gauntlets whined as the blasters charged and knocked them clean out of their boots. She supposed Tony didn’t think she would ever try to blast anything at full power, but lo and behold her rage was transcendental. They tried to restructure, protect the ones trying to take Loki away while fighting her off. Bullets ricocheted off her armor, letting her forge forward, blasters pumping out energy and leaving a trail of crumpled bodies. Taking a run, her body propelled off the ground, landing with a loud thud just in front of the door and cutting off their escape.

“Put. Him. Down.”

Rifles came up to point at her. Seven in total. They fired in unison, and she raised her arms, flinching instinctually from the projectiles that were intent on ripping into her armor. Charlie’s teeth grit tightly as she waited for the jolt of bullets to knock her backwards. They never came.

I thought it might be helpful to unlock Loki’s magic from the bracelets, the AI spoke into her ear.

When she blinked up, a blanket of green held the bullets in place, swirling in the ether of his magic. Her breath caught. This was definitely not something Tony had mentioned the last time she went in for a tune-up. He had failed to mention that the dampener Loki wore, implanted just under the skin of his bicep was feeding directly into the nanites or that there was any way to access the power. What was stranger was that the magic even listened to her, in the first place. By Loki’s tales, it was untamable force and most sorcerers never got very far without proper instruction. This was most odd.

Guns cocked and reloaded, breaking her out of her reverie. With a flick of her fingers, the bullets turned and resumed their trajectory, delivered back to sender. Another flourish, she disposed of the ones carrying the medical backboard with Loki in it and he fell to the carpeted ground with a groan.

Headache in full swing, she ran to his side, pushing away bodies to fall to her knees beside him. Nanites receded from her hands to touch his cheek.

“Loki. Babe, look at me.”

A wry smile curled his lips. “I am. I’m just very tired.” He chuckled, ending it with a cough and a groan. “Well, that answers the question where has my magic gone all this time?” He blinked a little longer each time as the darkness threatened to drag him down.

“Don’t close your eyes. Please. I need to get you to Tony’s.”

He giggled a little deliriously. “Magic suits you, petal.”

“Jesus, I really do need to get you to Tony’s.” Nanites back over her hands, she pulled his long frame into her arms and heaved. Even with the armor, he was decidedly heavier than any human she had ever met. For a second, she debated going out the front door, but seeing as her apartment was pretty much totaled, anyway, she burst through a window and into the New York skyline.

X

Loki blinked awake to the sounds of Charlie berating someone to within an inch of their life. He smiled, settling back into the covers with a grin despite the obvious pain radiating from just under his ribs and the dull ache in his skull. He peeked an eye open to see Stark, actively cowering backwards, away from her tone, narrowly avoiding her walking cane whenever she gestured wildly.

“It would have been nice to know how to activate the damn thing before Loki got fucking stabbed or I felt absolutely sure that he was dead because you put in a life or death trigger on the damn suit! And don’t get me fucking started on the fact that I’ve been carrying Loki’s magic for the last year and had no fucking clue about it!”

“I’m sorry! I was trying to keep you from playing with the suit for funsies instead of–”

“WE ALMOST DIED AND YOU WERE BUSY WITH YOUR OWN HYDRA ASSHOLES! WHAT WERE WE SUPPOSED TO DO? WAIT FOR YOU TO GET YOUR ASS KICKED BEFORE–”

“Charlie, love,” Loki hoarsed, and the tirade immediately quieted. Charlie rushed over to the bedside, briefly tripping over a chair leg before clambering onto his cot and covering his face with kisses. “Dove, I’m bound to be disgusting at the moment,” he protested weakly, but still pulled her closer by the waist.

“I don’t care. I love you.”

“I love you, too. My savior.” He cupped her face in his hands, absorbing the warmth from her beaming smile. “Glorious. Truly glorious.” He ran his fingers through her curls, bringing them back into shape from their crumpled form. Clearly she had been sleeping here with him and not necessarily keeping up with brushing–that was usually his task, anyway–but her crumpled clothes and dark circles under her eyes belied the worry she felt for him. It made his stomach warm several times over.

“I found your magic.”

He chuckled. “I recall. You can keep it safe for me.” He looked briefly at Tony who was pretending not to smile in the corner. “Do we know what happened?”

“Looking for you, buddy boy. They were a little disappointed you couldn’t do the hocus pocus stuff, but they caught onto the problem pretty quick.”

“I’m the problem,” Charlie muttered, snuggling into his side.

“Mmm, what a lovely problem to have,” he whispered before kissing her crown.

“Look, I’ll talk to your old man and see if we can’t get your sparkles and pixie dust ban lifted–”

“Don’t bother. I can teach Charlie how to use magic if you give her access. He said I couldn’t use seidr, not that I couldn’t teach someone else to wield it.”

Tony looked apprehensive, wincing slightly at the suggestion. “You sure you want to give Live Wire there that kind of ammunition?”

“Oh, if they don’t want to allow me to use my power, that is fine. But I am making her everyone’s problem. Aren’t I, sweet?”

Charlie simply snickered, leaving Tony to groan loudly as he stepped out of the hospital room.

[thebadchoicemachine]

For the writing prompt, what about ghost!Robin and Catboy!Corpse seeing present day Cornelius/Dream? Like Dream being confused and happy about his Partner and Son’s Ghosts being there and everyone else being v confused about the two random people calling him Cornelius and knowing him from a hundred years ago.

anon im so sorry. This has been sitting in my inbox for months now but I just cannot finish this story. it a really cool idea though. Here’s my incomplete first draft. I just copy and paste it from my wip to here so this is it, notes and cuts and typos and all. 

The idea is Karl shows up when they’re in the prison and they see the false timeline where Cornelius was a killer and are forced to accept he sucks

_________________

- The execution cell was supposed to be merciful, a more civilized solution than being beat to death, but everything about it made Robin gag. He hoped he would never ever end up in it. 

tw: implied indirect suicide, major death but they’re ghosts(?) 

--•-•-*-•-•-- 

Colors and colors and colors wouldn’t stop melting and mixing and swirling. They surrounded him. They were in him. They were him. He breathed them in without breathing, he bled them without blood, he was falling and flying and stood completely still. 

And then it was dark. No, then it was light. White and clean like the marble of a palace Robin knew he would never get to see. 

Where... where was he? He’d won hadn’t he? They’d... killed... him. They’d killed everyone. 

He wanted to die. He had to. There was boiling in his blood he couldn’t ease, he had to die, he needed them to hate him. To end him. The Jester’s Curse. Cursed to be wronged, to be hurt, to be freed. 

He’d always had it, as far as he was concerned. He didn’t know why he resisted for so long. Perhaps, despite everything, he’d enjoyed living at one point. Despite what he was, despite his curse, despite bring a jester, he wanted to live! At some point he couldn’t care less about tricking others into condemning him to the grave. 

After Cornelius, after Cat, he didn’t even fight it nor could he fight for it. He didn’t even care. Even as the ground swallowed him up in flames of the execution he held no harmony. No peace. There was no joy in his victory, there was no meaning to his death. Even in fulfilling it, he’d denied his curse. 

That’s why he was still here, wasn’t it? Jesters want to die, they want to transform, to be released into vengeful spirits of lies and trickery. He was... dead. He was also... still here... why? He knew why. He didn’t think he liked the answer. 

Robin couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand to bother mourning anymore. Not himself, not his long-dead family, not his new fath- he choked. He didn’t know know on what, he had no air, no lungs. He just couldn’t finish the thought. 

“We never did make it official, did we?” A solemn, comforting, voice rang out.

Robin spun around. No. What? No, it’s not. It is. He is. Right there. Standing- no, not standing. Neither of them can stand. Not floating either just… there… was Cat. 

Robin felt his eyes fill up with tears, he didn’t know how, he didn’t care. He flew into his friend’s arms. 

“Woah! Ah, be careful, child.”

“H-how,” Robin sobbed into his chest. “How are you…”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“I th-thought that was because of my c-curse.”

Cat sighed, gently ruffling the child’s hair.  

“No,” he spoke, finally. “I don’t think that’s why any of us are here.”

“Then-”

“No, I don’t think it’s what happens to everyone either. I’ve been alone as far as I can tell. I haven’t found anyone else. Not even…” he sighed again. 

Robin understood. Cornelius was gone. 

“I’m so sorry, Robin.” Cat tightened his grip. “I’m so sorry for what we put you through. We promised we would give you a better life, a safer one, but we left you in the worst way possible. You were executed because... because of me.”

“Oh,” Robin stared down at his feet. “You... were there for that?”

“No. I wasn’t- I can’t- I don’t know how to explain it, I only know what happened. Exactly what happened. It was like living a story being told to you, as though a nar- narrating...

Narration. Something clicked in both of their minds. Wasn’t there some strange… the spirals… the colors… he didn’t have a name, not one he ever told them. He had simply showed up one day, right before it all began. He wasn’t there, not properly anyway,. but he was there. He was there in the backs of everyone’s minds. He was there as he explained away every awful thing like it was a footnote in a novel. He was there as he made and told truth. He was the Narrator. 

He had such an air of control, such an air of change. 

Thoughts (memories?) of a past that never happened flashed through Robin’s mind. Cat was out investigating, Robin was carefully looking over his medical supplies. He couldn’t risk- NO. No. He swept the distraction from his mind. He wouldn’t get carried away, not this time.

The narrator. The Narrator. He had a book. A swirling and swishing mash of colors cover on his book he scribed all their horrors into. That’s where they were. 

“Cat, we need to go. He made a mistake. This… was his first time. We are not supposed to be here. We were never meant to leave. We should try to get out.”

Cat only nodded. Robin didn’t know why he understood or how deeply, but he did. This was a mistake.

The two began wandering the halls. It was strange, being able to think and move again as though his body was still his. To have his mind and thoughts working in a stream of consciousness instead of a thick muddy bog of echos. If he didn’t know any better he’d describe it as feeling more… alive.

He even reached out to guide Cat out of habit. How amazing was it that he had habits again? Cat allowed him to because he knew the comfort it gave him to have something so familiar. Although, of course, not really needing him to. They were both still dead, spirits, memories. Living- not living like this, detached, was like existing with a million tiny radars reaching out all around you. It wasn’t a matter of seeing or feeling, simply knowing. When you were so disconnected from life and itself you were able to get a much clearer and instant idea of the world, he supposed.

They walked and wandered in silence for a while. At least, a while from their perspective. Even with no real idea what or where they were Robin could tell time was… off… here. 

Eventually, they found their way out. There was no exit or pathway they walked through nor was it a sudden jump. They had just… made it out. They were standing beneath the shelter of some trees. It was raining. They were surrounded by unfamiliar structures and landscapes. Of course they were, but this wasn’t just some distant biome or kingdom it was…

“Robin? Are you alright?” 

“I- yes. I’m fine, Cat. This is- I mean, that place is just… wow.”

“It’s... different, yes. This rain is- hmm, it’s weird. I can’t feel it but I know it’s there. It’s making everything fuzzy.”

Robin stuck his hand out. The raindrops sizzled against his skin. He was so focused on the odd sensation he jumped when Cat yanked his arm back.

“What was that? Are you alright?”

“The rain, it stings.”

“Badly? Are you hurt?”

“Not really. It feels like I’m a bar of soap being whittled down by the drops but I’m fine. It only feels strange.”

“Oh, good,” Cat breathed a sigh of relief. “In that case, let’s keep moving.” 

Robin agreed. They didn’t have anywhere to go but neither felt like standing under the tree for all eternity. Besides, they were in a whole new world, maybe even a whole new dimension, and Robin was really curious to see what was with those strange building 

It all seemed impossible. 

His breath was taken away at every turn as they walked. Structures like nothing he’d ever seen before. There were so many colors, so many shapes, so many mechanics, so many things, and all so high and huge. It was amazing. 

“Slow down a little, this rain is really disorienting.”

“Sorry! Sorry, this place is just… wow.”

“So you’ve said,” Cat laughed. “What exactly is so amazing about it? Describe it to me.”

“Well, there’s so much of it. It’s like a town but nothing like a town at all. More like a whole kingdom. A very strange kingdom.  There’s no uniform to it, every build is unique. There was a castle we passed, it was huge and had so many colors! There were just rainbows and rainbows pouring out of every-”

“Mmm, interesting.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“This castle though, it felt like regret, didn’t it?”

“Y-yeah? Kinda,” Robbin had been trying to avoid thinking about that, how he could feel every building. “Uh, over to your side there is a pit, a giant crater bigger than our entire town! It’s tragic. It’s refreshing a little. It’s kind of…”

“Familiar. I- I don’t want to be near that, Robin. Let’s keep moving.”

Robin didn’t agree. He wanted to get closer, to feel what was so sad, so new, so ended, what about whatever tragedy there was familiar. He wanted to understand what he knew would hurt him, and why. 

*****

“No! He would never!” Cat’s voice was rising. It was honestly scary, Robin had never seen him so wrathful. “He is the kindest person you will ever know! He is a protector! He’s- he is-”

“Do you really believe that?” The Narrator asked, calm and unfazed, sorrow creeping into his question. Robin couldn’t shake it from his mind. His thoughts were ruffles like pages flipping backward in a book. Like a pencil rubbing revealing words erased and undone but that had still been written. He was sent back to his flashing memories, his lies, unable to stop them.  

Cat was out investigating, Robin was carefully looking over his medical supplies. He couldn’t risk choosing wrong tonight. He’d been right to focus on himself. No, he’d been lucky. He’d panicked. Cat was out to the town now. Robin was out now. The killers knew they could stop them, they would be targets. The killers…

Part of him wanted to ignore it, to go back to thinking it couldn’t be one of them. That no one would do something like that, that is must be some outside force but Jimmy… they’d gotten him right. Robin winced at the memory of Helga, at how it had almost been him, but they’d gotten Jimmy right. He knew they had, the Narrator said so. 

The next morning, no one had died. Robin hadn’t needed to heal anyone. Cat reported Jack hadn’t left his home. It seemed like, well, it must be Jack. It just had to be, didn’t it? Robin frowned. He liked Jack enough, he didn’t want to kill anyone. He didn’t want to be wrong again but what choice did he have?

Jack was fighting. He was shouting, angry, scared. He was in the exact same place Robin had been a few nights ago. The familiarity burned inside his chest. He couldn’t stand any more of this, it needed to end tonight. 

“IT’S CORNELIUS!  IT’S HIM! IT HAS TO BE! Look at me. Look at me! You know me, I’m simple, I farm potatoes. If Helga was still here she’d remind yall I ain’t good for much else. You really think I could do this?”

Robin couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing. He wanted to believe it. He wanted to spare everyone he could but… Cornelius? Could he really condemn him any more than he could Jack? Could he any less? 

“What makes you think it’s me and not one of them? I know you’re a killer, Jack. You guessed Cat would be on your trail tonight and didn’t kill. Why else wouldn’t someone be dead today?” Cornelius’s voice was as calm and upbeat as ever, if not a bit exasperated. 

“He’s smart! He’s too smart. Look at his freaky, calculatin’ eyes, if you can ever see them. Look at him! Hiding behind that mask, wearing that ridiculous green hood, what’s that smile for, huh? None of us should have trusted him the day he set foot in this town, make up for it now. C’mon! Cat, I know you’re better than murderin’ folks for mayhem. Bob, you’re as simple as me! Robin,” Robin froze up as he was addressed directly “You’re a child, a sweet one. I’m sorry you have to live through this. I’m sorry you’ve been where I am now but I only hope that gives you the empathy you need to make the right choice. It’s him. I swear it’s not me!”

Everything felt stifled. He muffled the distraught protests of Cat in favor of listening to his own. No. No, it couldn’t be.  Everyone in town used to be friendly but Cornelius was a friend. He and Cat had been there for Robin. They’d taken him in, cared for him, treated him as their own son. Well, Cat had. 

Robin slowly blinked. What had Cornelius done for him? Thinking this way made him sick but he needed to be rational here. Did he really believe Cornelius was innocent, truly? He trusted Cat. Cat had proof he was safe, even if he wasn’t an investigator he had years and years of kindness to back him up. What did Cornelius have, really? He was kind, decent enough, but so was Jack. So were Jimmy and Helga. That wasn’t something he could base his vote on. 

So what did make him so sure it wasn’t Cornelius? The only… he realized the only thing holding him up was Cat. Cat loved him. Robin wanted that to be enough. He wanted desperately to go back home, to lay in Cat’s lap while Cornelius told them stories. He wanted to retreat into his memories but when he tried they felt corrupted, tainted, hollow. 

Every time he tried to imagine the kind way Cornelius had ruffled his hair, how he’d giggle and blush after a kiss from Cat, how he’d take off his mask at home and join Robin sitting on the porch, every time he tried to lose himself in the memory of that soft, humored, smile he was frozen inside by the eyes. Even when they were sad or kind his eyes were always vibrant, sharp… calculating. 

Robin took a shaky breath. He didn’t like this, he didn’t want to do this, any of it. He was filled with a numb resolve as he cast his vote. He had no proof either was innocent but he had no reason to believe Jack was capable of this… he knew Cornelius was. 

“The voting has finished,” The Narrator began. “Jack... Jack is the most suspected but this means nothing. Cornelius, by 3/5ths of the vote you have been found guilty. Please, step into the chamber.”

-

“NO!” A scream cut through the faux memory, just barely. Just enough for Robin to hear it. Who had yelled? Cat? Cor- Dream? Himself? He didn’t know, he was still lost.

-

Lost… Robin was so lost. 3/5ths. Cornelius obviously voted for Jack and vice versa, Bob was on Jack’s side, Cat must have voted for Jack even if only to save his love. Robin had been the deciding vote. What had he done? Was he right? Cornelius gave him no answer as he calmly stepped into the cell. The Narrator blabbed on, explaining the votes and who and what but for the first time since the colorful stranger arrived Robin couldn't listen to a word he said, instead focusing on Cat. 

Cat had run to the jail, his hands reaching desperately through the bars. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this,” he kept repeating. His voice was calm and low but Robin could tell that was desperate. He was putting on an act, trying to reassure Cornelius as though it would all solve itself if he just kept together. Cornelius still didn’t speak. He took Cat’s hand and rested it on his face, under his mask.

Then the grate snaped close and Cat was forced to pull his hand back. He barely moved though, pressing his hands against the wire through the bars. Cornelius pressed his hand up from the other side. Maybe Cat could feel it, maybe he couldn’t, Robin didn’t know which he preferred. 

Part of Robin wanted to put him to back away, to warn him the bars and fence was there for a reason, but the rest of him knew he couldn’t. The least- the only thing he could do was allow Cat this brief moment of closure, if you could even call it that. 

Cornelius still kept silent, for just the briefest of moments Robin hated him. How dare he? How dare he sit there, keeping Cat suffering in silence? How dare he keep Robin in this horrid suspense? How dare he not admit his crimes or keep pleading his innocence? How dare he… how dare… then Robin heard Cat whimper and the anger was gone. 

“We’re gonna get you out of here, okay? We-”

“Well, that’s not gonna happen,” The Narrator laughed, almost callously. If he wasn’t so detached from the world, so different from them he felt innocent even in cruelty, Robin might’ve felt like spitting on him. He couldn’t though, he was different. He was detached. He was like a child who didn’t know any better than to hurt others’ feelings. Like a child except instead of not knowing any better he knew too much. 

Maybe that’s why Robin didn’t lash out or protest as the narrator pulled the lever. Maybe that’s why he didn’t scream as the pistons shifted. Maybe that’s why he only closed his eyes and ignored the shouts of triumph. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be angry at Jack and Bob for celebrating, at the moment he was only glad their cries drowned out the sizzle.